High-functioning God Of Mischief
by BeatriixExtrange
Summary: A certain God of Mischief requires the help of a high-functioning sociopath in order to retrieve the objects the Avengers have taken from him. Sherlock has John, and between Loki and Tony Stark there is more than platonic love, but when the two collide, what will happen? Is just attraction or there is more to it? Rated M for later chapters. Sherloki, Johnlock, Frostiron.
1. The One Who Entertains Me

Sooo, hello! This is my first fanfic _ever,_ so please put up with me and my mistakes. I am not English, I'm Spanish, so my English might not be perfect —I know it's not xD—.

Anyway, thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank you all for reading, and please review. It's always good to know what can I improve.

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**Chapter 1. The One Who Entertains Me.**

I was awakened by the horrible noise of the floor creaking. I hated that floor. It may be the only thing I disliked of 221B Baker Street. You couldn't walk without it making that creepy noise.

"I'll get John fix it" I mumbled still half asleep. The noise stopped, and I grunted in approval, grateful I could drift back to that wonderful dream I was having.

Someone being in my apartment at such ungodly hours didn't bother the three-in-the-morning me. Not the half asleep me, at least. But there was no caffeine to change my zombie state, so it didn't bother me in the least. Unreasonable, looking in retrospective. But it could be John, trying to sneak into my bed.

A couple of moments later, the steps —and therefore, that dammed sound— continued. I buried my head behind the pillow, trying to muffle it. The person was getting closer. Argh, that just made those horrible creaks louder.

"John, not now. It's very late; we'll have sex in the morning. Just go to sleep."

I heard a supressed chuckle beside my bed, and then the friction of leather and metal when the person leaned closer to me. Well, _now_ caffeine wasn't needed to awake me. Slowly, I turned my back to face the intruder, silently praying for him not to be Moriarty.

I'd grown quite… irritated to the man, to put it in mild words. He had been fun, though. Innerving, but fun.

But I didn't see the consulting criminal's face, but a very different one. Piercing but amused green eyes, alabaster skin, framed by long strands of raven black hair. The small greenish flame coming from the tip of one of his long and slender fingers left half his face in mysterious yet fascinating shadow.

"Who… who are you? What… are you doing in here? What time is it?" I asked, confused by the closeness. I could smell his scent, a mix of winter and forest I liked instantly. "What the hell is _that_?" I said, pointing at his finger.

"So many questions, so eager to know. Surely you, the great Sherlock, can deduce some of the answers. Or are you not even worth my trip to this realm?" asked cockily the man, arching an elegant eyebrow in my direction.

Quickly I stared at the man, collecting any information that could be of use. His clothes were obviously not of this world, as the fabric —and style, but with all the crazy fashion around that could mean nothing— was not something I had ever seen before. His words and accent were not something English, either. Realm, had he said? Was he referring to England or to the Earth? And that voice… He certainly had a beautiful voice, the Nordic accent only making it sexier.

But the most disturbing thing about him was that blue-green flame. Wasn't he burning? Why? How could he produce it?

"I assume you are not from… here." I answered slowly, suddenly unsure. I was _never_ unsure. What was happening? "Here meaning Earth. But you do have a northern accent, maybe Nordic, am I wrong?"

"All worlds have north, little Midgardian. But you are right, indeed. I am what you would call a Norse God." He stood and lifted his chin. "I am Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Trickery. And you, my little newly met friend, will do as I command in order to help me get back what is mine." His eyes blazed with anger, turning them into two green flames. I could only think about getting out of the way of this god.

But it was me, and I was tired and pissed by the interruption of sleep and beautiful red-panted dreams. And, worst of all, I was _bored_.

"Why should I? It's not as I didn't have any other things to do but helping Norse gods in distress. And, by God's sake, it's three in the morning." The green-eyed god made a face at the expression. "Client opening hours is between nine and five. Come back tomorrow. Or today. Whenever pleases you." I said, lying back down on the mattress, moving my hand in the air.

"Are you dismissing _me_?" Loki hissed. "Have you even listened to what I have said? I. Am. A. God. You have not the right to dismiss me." The blankets were pulled away from my body, but no hand was behind that. "You are going to help me or I swear you'll regret the day you were born."

I saw a green ray of light and I was suddenly floating, head down, my hair touching the floor. "What the hell do you think you are doing? I don't care if you are a god or the Spirit of Christmas, you don't tell me what to do!" I started to kick the air, trying to reach him. "Put me down! How do you even do this?!"

Loki rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I thought you were smart." He moved his finger on fire, making the little flame to flutter. "Magic. I am a sorcerer. A great one, if I may add." His face darkened. "And because I'm a sorcerer I need my magic. Which has been stripped away from me by those insignificant Avengers." He explained.

"Well, call me paranoiac, but this doesn't seem non-magical to me." I commented, pointing myself. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, before realizing what I was referring to. With a fluid movement of his left hand, I turned in the air and stood there, mid-air, not reaching with my feet to the ground.

"Not all my magic depends on the magical objects. They are useful, and amplify my powers, but it's me who… I don't even know why do I bother explaining this to a Midgardian like you." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, I'm sure I can… pay you somehow." He added mischievously.

"I don't care about the money."

"Oh, but you are looking for something to amuse yourself, aren't you? Boredom is one of the most powerful motivations, trust me." The God of Mischief said, taking a step closer to me. "Throughout the centuries I have seen that. It's not unusual to see wars sprung by mere boredom." Another step. He was only a few centimetres away from me. "I can offer you multiple ways of entertainment." Purred the man, pressing his long and pale finger behind my chin.

I couldn't help the response of my groin at the proposition, but sure as hell I could choose what my mouth would say. I chuckled. "Well, I already have someone to entertain me in that aspect. He is a soldier and is currently sleeping in the bedroom next door. Such a pity. I'm sure that in another occasion…" I trailed off when I saw the glare he was throwing at me. "No need to make a fuss out of this. You surely have a long queue of volunteers waiting for you where you come from."

"Why would you assume that?" Loki asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"I just thought… It's not that way? Impressive."

"Who said it is not? I just asked why you thought that."

"Well, being a sorcerer… And a god, it sure makes things easy. And with your face. Any other hidden talents I should know about?"

"Again, what makes you think you should know anything about me? And, by the way, I am a prince." He said this last bitterly, making me want to ask, but I didn't, as it didn't seem appropriate. I laughed inside. I, Sherlock Holmes, high-functioning sociopath, knew what was _appropriate_.

"Since we are working together", I refused to say _work for you_. No way. "I guess knowing about you is just the obvious step. That's what John says. The one who _entertains_ me." I explained, watching the confused face the god made.

A second later, he opened his mouth slightly, taking in what I had just said. "And the payment?" Loki asked.

"I'll think of something." I beamed the best smile I could manage. "Now, Prince Loki of Asgard, sorcerer and the one who lacks of a queue of eager mates waiting for him, I would really appreciate if my feet touched the ground. Not really used to floating, you know?"

With an amused smile, the moved his left hand. His right index finger still had the little flame at the tip. I found myself slowly descending until I heard that stupid creak the floor did every time someone stood on it or walked.

A little unstable, I stumbled to the bed and crawled inside. I decided to pull the blankets to my nose, seeing the look the God of Mischief gave me.

"So… I'll see you tomorrow? We are not going to start this… task now, are we?" I asked, uncertain. If the god was crazy enough as to sneak into my bedroom at night, he could easily think we would start _now_.

His face softened. "I'll let you sleep. We'll start tomorrow morning. Be ready." And he disappeared in a puff of green smoke. And I thought Moriarty was my biggest problem.

Nothing compared to a certain God of Mischief.

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So, is Sherloki the best ship **ever **or not? I know it is xDDD

Please review!


	2. The One With The Sceptre And The Helmet

Another chapter! I hope you enjoy it, sassy!Loki is my favourite ;) As always, my English is not perfect, so I'm grateful for any mistakes that you help me correct.

Please, review!

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**Chapter 2. The One With The Sceptre And The Helmet.**

I woke up to the same sound as the last time; that dammed creak coming from the floor when it's walked upon.

But this time I knew it was John, by the smooth pace of his feet, by the confidence of his steps. I let him open the door of my bedroom and crawl up into my sheets, without moving a single muscle. John loved to wake me up by kissing me all over my body.

He put himself upon me, legs at each side of my body, and started leaving little kisses in my neck, the most exposed part of my body as I was now. I arched towards his lips automatically, soft groans escaping my throat.

John smiled without stopping. He moved upwards to my ear, biting my earlobe, sucking and licking it. I still didn't make any obvious move to let him know I was awake, so he slid his hand under the top of my pyjamas, caressing my chest. He pinched my left nipple, and I gasped, opening my eyes.

I heard John laugh beside my ear, kissing me until he reached my mouth. He then stopped and pulled away a little, allowing me to admire his face. Oh my, that face.

I groaned and placed a hand behind his neck to pull him to my lips. I kissed him passionately, tongues intertwining. I ran my hands through his fair hair, loving his scent, the scent of John; sandalwood and soap and that thing that made it unique.

He rolled to the side and suddenly froze. John sat up on the bed and turned to see the other side of the bed. What was going on with him? I purred in protest and I also got up, annoyed by the lack of reaction of the man.

"John, what–" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"Sherlock, I hope you have a _really_ good explanation for this." His voice was as cold as ice.

I looked the direction he was throwing daggers at, and couldn't help the "Oh, shit" that escaped my lips.

A mess of raven black strands was spread in the pillow, the rest of the body hidden beneath the sheets. Gingerly I touched the shoulder attached to it, shaking the god.

"John, this is not even remotely what you think it is. This is Loki, a… client. Or a future one. I don't know why is he here, or why…" Loki didn't move, nor make a sign of him being even alive, which really annoyed me. He dared leaving me alone with this situation? No way. "Loki, dammit, wake the hell up!" I shouted, pulling the sheets away, hoping that would disturb his sleep. It did, but the action also showed the nakedness of the god.

"SHERLOCK, WHY IS HE IN YOUR BED IF HE'S A CLIENT? AND WHY IS HE NAKED?" John demanded, clearly pissed.

Fortunately, Loki was now awake enough as to answer that himself.

"Hey, no need to be so noisy first hour in the morning." He said, rubbing his eyes. That bastard. "I came yesterday night –or today, as you please– but Sherlock politely told me it wasn't a client opening hour, so I was disposing to leave when he offered I spent the night here. I was compelled to oblige, as you may imagine." Loki explained, giving me a smirk. Worst is, he said it with so much confidence anyone would think he was speaking the truth.

I wanted to slap that smirk out of his pale face.

"Okay, so, first of all, I should say no. That's so _no_ how it happened. Second, Loki is the God of Mischief and Lies, so please John, keep that in mind. He _lies_." I said, before John would have the opportunity to storm out of the room. "Loki came in here without my consent or knowledge, demanding I helped him get back only-God-knows what magical stuff." I knew exactly what he had asked me to do, but I wasn't giving the god that satisfaction. "I had to forcibly agree and then he disappeared in green smoke. Just like in the movies, John. End of the story. I really don't know what is he doing here now."

"Oh, so a naked god enters your room and you don't think it's strange? Really, Sherlock? How do I know you are telling the truth?" Said John, glaring both Loki and me.

"I really thought you were smarter…" I mumbled. "And he wasn't naked the last time I saw him! Tell me, John, when do I tell people things politely?"

That left him thinking for a moment. Finally, he sighed. "I'll go make breakfast. Don't do something you might regret." He warned, but to whom I wasn't sure, if Loki or me.

He left my room, red briefs flashing under his tee. Uh, I loved those. I got up and I started to smooth out my pyjamas to remove the wrinkles, trying to look annoyed by the presence of the god.

I glanced at Loki, who was still lying in the mattress, unaware of anything not being him. He turned his back and fixed his eyes on me.

"Like what you see?" The god asked mischievously, raising an eyebrow. I didn't answer, and just stood there. After a couple of seconds, I walked to the edge of the bed where he was lying, and dug a finger in his flesh, making the god wince in surprise.

"Get up and go out. I need to change clothes." I told him, fully aware of what that meant; he would be in the corridor completely naked.

"No need to get things that far. We barely know each other, and you already want to present me? Such hurry. There's plenty of time, Sherlock." He purred.

"Out." He pouted and cheekily crawled out of bed, letting me see his whole body. I rolled my eyes and walked towards the closet.

I heard the door closing and a pair of feet entering the kitchen. Seriously? I shook my head and quickly dressed.

When I reached the living room, I couldn't help but to gape at the scene. Loki was sprawled in the sofa, still completely naked, carelessly sipping a cup of what presumably was tea, while John eyed him from the other corner of the room, full of caution, suspicion and shock.

"Well now, it seems that you have finally finished." Loki said, a content smile spreading in his face. "We shall start then."

Moving his hand in the air, the god suddenly was fully dressed in green leather and golden metal.

"Why have you waited if you could have done that at any moment?" John asked, visibly irritated.

"I don't know." Answered the man, giving me a look I didn't like in the slightest.

John grunted something I didn't understand, but let it go. "Let's get this over with. What do you want?" He asked the god dryly.

Loki had the face to play offended. "Such rudeness. I expected more from you Midgardians. Specially after last night." He added.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Stop saying those things or the next thing coming from your mouth will be your teeth." John threatened.

"Oh, little entertainment is jealous? Look, Sherlock, he really likes you!" But after the intimidating look the _entertainment_ shot him, he shut up. "Alright, alright. By the Nine. Nothing happened. I was _lying_. Satisfied now?"

I gazed at John, with a I–told–you–didn't–I look. He sighed. "Get to the point. What do you want?" He repeated.

Loki instantly changed his body language. No more jokes now. He leaned forth in his seat, piercing us with his stare before speaking.

"I need you to help me get back something. That group of insignificant ants that call themselves Avengers stole it from me. I want it back, as I need them." The god explained.

"What are those objects?" I asked.

"Magical ones. I recall telling you this. Have you forgotten?"

"No, I don't forget. I am asking what they are _exactly_. A wand, a crystal ball, an invisibility ring?" I explained, annoyed.

"Don't be stupid. Those are just useless. Who uses a wand nowadays?" Answered the god, dismissing the thought with his hand. "They are my sceptre and my helmet. I believe they are in the Avengers headquarters."

"And where's that?" John intervened.

"In the city you call New York. In the tower belonging to Tony Stark." I noticed the way he said the name, with resentment and care, as if that Stark man had betrayed him in some way. I chose not to ask.

Loki swiped moods again. "What do you have for breakfast? I'm starving, and your lover here only offered me tea." He commented nonchalantly, heading towards the kitchen as if he were home.

Seriously, who can keep up with this man?

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So, how is it? I personally love these characters xDDD


	3. Comments, Threats & Assassination Plots

A new chapter is here! Enjoy it :) Thanks or the support, and please review, it's very encouraging to see you care.

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**Chapter 3. Comments, Threats And Assassination Plots.**

I went to the kitchen, in what I knew was a carefree façade. I couldn't help it, my barriers had just went up. I shouldn't have mentioned Stark. Thinking about him still was painful; about what we were, about what we had done… About what _he_ had done. And saying his name out loud, even out of context… It had been too much for me to handle. Too soon.

I rummaged through the drawers and shelves, looking for something to eat. Something at least vaguely familiar. Midgardian food wasn't what I could call tasty, so I usually had a tough time finding meals. Yes, I knew tea. Who doesn't know tea? The basis were the same as in Asgard, but not the way it was cooked, nor the sauces and spices.

I opened a wardrobe–like piece of furniture and surprised myself when cold air came from the inside.

"What is this? Do you keep ice in here?" I asked, curious. I put my hands inside, feeling the chill around my skin. It had been long since I had last felt such low temperature. I loved it. A purr escaped my lips.

"That's a _fridge_. Haven't you seen one before?" Sherlock answered, raising an eyebrow.

A fridge. There was one in Stark Tower, wasn't it? I guess there was. I guess someone had explained what it was to me. But I didn't really remember. I didn't care about it, either.

Sherlock shoved me aside, looking for something presumably edible in the fridge. A moment later, he withdrew his hands, holding three eggs in each one.

"Time for breakfast. _Real_ breakfast." He announced with a wink in my direction. That surprised me, I thought Sherlock had his little human —what was his name?— as a consort. Problems in paradise, maybe?

"John is always trying to make me eat more healthy and quit smoking. I keep telling him that's a waste of time, as I need to distract myself and cigarettes help me concentrate." He told me while preparing whatever he was cooking. "You know, vegetables, fruit, nothing _good_. Pass me the milk." He asked. I handled him the bottle of what I supposed was milk.

"What is that?" I leaned over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He had mixed the eggs and the milk, creating an orange liquid. "Is that even food? Certainly it doesn't look like food."

Sherlock only chuckled. "This, you god, is the best thing you may taste in England. Or in the world, for that matter. Ever."

"Not in my world. Asgard's food is quite different, I'm afraid. It is mostly… solid?"

"Who said this wasn't?" The detective poured the mix on a pot and started to make circles with a spoon.

A couple of minutes later, what was in the pot was, indeed, solid. Or semisolid. Sherlock tsked. "I forgot the toasts. Loki, make some toasts. I think six will be enough. It's going to get cold, though."

I took the bread and made toasts with my magic. I handled them to the detective, who smiled crookedly. He didn't seem surprised that it had taken hardly time to make them.

"Thank you. John, breakfast's ready!" He took the plates to the living room, and placed them in the table there. It wasn't as covered by piles of paper as the kitchen table, but still was quite full, so John had to put them aside, carefully not to mess them.

I gingerly sat down on one of the chairs, still looking nonchalant. I was truly curious about the dish, though.

"And how is this… thing supposed to be called?" I said, stabbing the food with a fork.

"It's scrambled eggs, and it's now going to attack you, so stop doing that and eat it." Sherlock answered. "Coffee?"

I nodded. "No milk, two sugar."

"I'm not your maid. I'm sure you can help yourself." He pointed where the sugar was with a lazy finger.

Startled but amused by the sudden mood change, I poured myself a cup of coffee —another thing we _did_ have in Asgard—. I noticed the so called sociopath staring at me from the corner of the eye, which only amused me more because of the glares his lover was throwing at me.

If only he knew what I would do if I truly wanted to make Sherlock mine…

I sat back on the chair, and cautiously y dared trying the scrambled eggs. After a sip of the coffee to alleviate the taste, I put the food in my mouth. It was pretty good. The best thing I'd had in Midgard, actually.

But it's not as I was going to tell Sherlock that.

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, in which none of us said a thing. The entertainment was clearly trying to call Sherlock's attention, who was completely oblivious to him and focused his gaze on me.

I stopped eating and raised my eyes to his'. "Like what you see?"

"Not in the least. I already told you I have my own entertainment." His glance didn't even flicker in the other's direction, who eyed us with disconcert.

"Then why all this study? You see, do not misunderstand me, I do love to be observed, but there is always a reason behind it."

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, supporting his head on the tips of his fingers. "I am studying _you_, not this façade you have built up a minute ago. I am just collecting data about you. The way you do insignificant things, too small to cover their true nature, is what tells me who you are, rather than your bigger actions."

"Oh really?" Now I was curious. I wanted to know what he had discovered and how. It would be useful the next time I tried to hide. The mere fact that he knew I was posing a façade was quite unexpected.

John cleared his throat, a deep frown in his face. "Are you finished? I'll go take the plates." Such a killjoy. Our little conversation was coming to its climax, and I was enjoying it profoundly.

I let a soft hiss from my lips.

"Sherlock, help me." The other said, tugging at the man's neat suit's sleeve. Sherlock got up, and took a mug in his hand before mumbling something I couldn't quite make out, but sounded disturbingly similar to my mother language's swearing. Could it be possible he knew old Norse? No, it couldn't be. I shook my head to erase the thought.

They went to the kitchen, where I could hear them talking perfectly.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? All the stares and the eyes and the mysterious comments. What game are you playing with him?" John asked, irritated.

"He's a client. I thought I told you before. Why else would he be here?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Since when do you try to make small talk? You _never_ make small talk."

"I'm not playing any… Oh, John, come on, you know me! I need to do something refreshing, if not I get bored! Is it too bad for me to have some harmless fun with him? Please?" I could almost hear the big fake smile he had plastered all over his face.

"Alright, but I still don't trust him. I don't like the way he looks at you."

I had to suppress a laugh at that, and couldn't help myself anymore. "You know I can hear you both plotting my assassination, right? God thing." I shouted. I got up to go to the kitchen too, but decided to make an entrance and appeared from the thin air in front of their faces instead. The look on their faces was priceless.

"It's so cute that you have finally declared your feelings for me; I think I'm about to faint." I told the man wearing a jumper and a shocked expression. "Anyway, I am, apart from a customer, someone who has eyes. And someone who has eyes can see you don't like me. Even someone blind can. Your jealousy is _adorable_. My point is. I. Do. Not. Care." I leaned closer, digging a finger in his chest with each word. "And stop telling Sherlock what to do because frankly, he is the only one that matters. I could kill you as easily as I killed an ant. And if you don't quit bothering me, I'll do it. Understood?"

He swallowed and nodded, hurt pride flashing in his eyes. I turned to Sherlock, who was cautious but curious, like he was before a wild animal that fascinated him.

"Now, if you are so kind as to follow me. I'll fill you into the rest of the details. Breakfast is over."

I exited the room, fully aware of the two pair of eyes exchanging looks before one of them went after me.


	4. The One Who Studies Mugs

**Chapter 4. The One Who Studies Mugs.**

I really couldn't understand the god. One moment he was all sassy and the next one he was threatening John. I rolled my eyes, even if no one could see me do it.

I followed Loki into the living room, and took a seat by the fireplace, while he took the other.

The god tilted his head, eyeing me carefully. "Are you not angry because I threatened your lover?" He asked.

"Why should I? My anger won't solve it. And emotions are useless. They only make you worry over stupid things. No, I am not angry." I answered, as if it were the simplest thing. It wasn't, _of course_, but that didn't matter.

He shrugged and took the empty mug of tea I had left there the night before. I saw him twiddle with it between his hands, playing with those incredibly long fingers of his.

Those little things were the ones I studied. The ones I had told him about. Almost told.

Movements of the hands, flashes of emotions behind the eyes after some clue words are spoken, the tongue. Oh, the tongue. No one minds the tongue. But it's one of the biggest sources of information when someone is trying to hide his own nature. It moves, it twirls, it darts, it throws poisonous words. But no one can stop it, no one can control it.

I can see it.

While I was thinking about this, the god continued to absentmindedly toy with the mug, as if he were studying it. His eyes were fixated on the object, never leaving it. Finally, Loki spoke, slowly, calculating his words.

"You know… last year, there was a battle, right? In New York. There were… creatures, the Chitauri, they were called. Well… I was in that battle. I was leading the Chitauri." He lifted his eyes, but avoided mine.

"I know." I said. It was true. It hadn't been too difficult to join all the pieces. Loki wasn't one of the called Avengers, and he definitely wasn't one of the Chitauri. Yet he appeared in multiple footages of the fight.

He met my gaze, surprised and… relieved? I couldn't tell, emotions were not my strong point. "You do?" Loki narrowed his eyes, realizing something. "If you did, why didn't you call the police when you knew who I was?"

"You are free. Shouldn't that count?" The god threw me a glance. I rolled my eyes. "I was bored." He seemed to accept that answer better, and let it go.

"After the fight, I was captured. I went to Asgard, where my trial started. That's when it was discovered that I had been tortured to conquer Midgard. I do not have the smallest desire to rule this planet that has no magic. But what I had done was a crime nevertheless. Because of my status and lineage, I was sentenced to remain in Midgard —here— without most of my magical powers, serving the Avengers I once fought." He shuddered. "They weren't allowed to cause me any physical damage, but there are other forms of harm. They psychologically abused me and wouldn't let me have a full night of straight sleep. It's obvious that they weren't happy to have me there without being able to touch me." Loki explained. He made a pause, and I could only imagine what he had to have suffered. Even if he was a criminal.

The mug continued in his hands, completely forgotten.

"Where were the helmet and the sceptre at that time?" I asked, unable to bear the silence that had fallen amongst us.

"I guess they were back in Asgard, in the weaponry room, where they usually are if I do not require them. I was given them back after some time of my being here." He swallowed. "I… The only one of the Avengers who didn't take part in my torture was Anthony Stark. Iron Man. He was actually kind, and talked with me as he would talk with anybody else. We became… friends." His voice had started to falter slightly. "At first he accompanied me when I was unable to sleep, or was with me while the others just kept the distance, or things like that. But after some time he even convinced the others to leave me alone, and then everything went quite better."

Loki smiled absentmindedly at the memory, but continued. "No one but time can make miracles, though. So I still had to wait a couple of months more to get to have a _normal_ relationship whit them. I had tried to kill all of them, you know. But I guess knowing that I had been tortured to it helped me. After some of the reports the Avengers sent to Asgard I was given my magic back, as well as the so-called sceptre and helmet." He smiled, or kind of.

"Then… well, I was grateful to Stark for helping me, and those emotions evolved into feelings. Thing is, we ended up as lovers, as you and your little entertainment are." The god looked at me sideways, trying to read my reaction.

"If your life was so wonderful why are you here now?" I teased.

He simply tsked, but I could see his body language stiffening with anger. "A couple of days ago everything changed. From day to night, I was back to the indifference and the distance. I didn't know why. My magic was restrained again, and as you have surely deduced, my possessions had disappeared."

He seemed to have ended, but there was still a part he hadn't told me.

"What happened then?"

"I do not understand the question." Loki tilted his head.

"What happened between you discovered that and entered my bedroom at night?" I reformulate the question.

"Oh." He considered the question for a couple of moments. "I asked Stark if he knew what had occurred to my magic, but he only looked at me in disdain and accused me of betraying him, of betraying all of them. After that…" He looked away, ashamed. "I… fled."

I slowly closed my eyes and started to think. The _why_ that had happened would be a fine start. Loki hadn't asked it, so it was my task to discover all the things he had not.

Something had changed… If Loki had done nothing, and I gave him credit enough as for him to know if he had done something, someone else must have done it. Someone who didn't appreciate Loki's new life. If he just despised him he —or she— would have done it when he was at his worst, to make sure he wouldn't recover.

But _what_ had been done? The answer came as easy as ever. It wasn't a _done_, but a _said_. Loki had been prisoner of the Avengers, so he couldn't go out and plot freely, neither could he know if someone was plotting against him. And words were something powerful, and more for someone who knew how to use them. A sorcerer, for example. Someone who needed words to work his magic.

It must be someone trustworthy enough for the Avengers to believe him by only words. Or maybe he also had proof. Some of Loki's old mischiefs? No, his first and only attempt of great chaos had been the New York one, and he was captured and tried for it.

This thing he was being accused of couldn't be that important, or at least illegal, according to Asgard's and Earth's laws. The god wouldn't have been allowed to ran away if it were. But it was, nevertheless, something bad enough as to make the involved one lose all respect or esteem from the ones who know it. Some kind of defamation.

"Do you know someone who wasn't pleased with your sentence? A sorcerer or someone who uses magic. He or she is important in Asgard. People would listen to him or her." I asked.

Loki opened his eyes in disbelief and realization. "I know who exactly is. I knew she would do something like this, but not so soon…" He stood up. "We have to go now. Sherlock, take the indispensable, we are going."

"Shouldn't _I_ have something to say in that?" I inquired, arching an eyebrow. "Who is she?"

He just rolled his eyes, impatient. "Right, you can bring your lover along. John! Come here! Sherlock needs you!" Loki shouted shamelessly.

John's head appeared behind the doorframe. "What?" He grunted.

"Sherlock needs you to entertain him while we are out. So you are coming. Hurry." John narrowed his eyes and looked at me. I sighed, and went to his side, eyeing Loki in the mirror.

"I'll give you ten minutes. Then, I'll teleport you, ready or not." The god announced. I heard John mumble beside me.

"Sherlock, what is this all about? Are we seriously going with this man… _where_?" He asked, annoyed. We were already in the corridor, off the sight of that unnervingly cocky god. I grabbed his ass for a moment, and kissed him lightly in the lips.

"John, I sense a great mystery. _Please_. Let's go." I begged, giving him the best puppy eyes I could manage. It worked. He sighed, and looked me in the eyes, pulling me into a deep kiss. I answered it eagerly, craving his touch after this morning's disruption. I heard him moan softly, and I slid a hand down his spine to his butt, sensing the fabric of the red pants under my fingertips.

"Eight minutes! By the Nine, stop making out where I can hear you!" Loki sounded tremendously amused, and I swear in that moment I had to supress the urge of strangling him. For the sake of not being bored again.

Reticently I got away from John. "I really don't like him."

I silently laughed at the irony. I _did_ like the god.

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Please review :)


	5. War, Mercy & Bubbles

Thank you for your support :) This chapter is quite longer than the previous ones, but is almost complete smut, so it's worth it hahahaha

Enjoy! And review, please :)

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**Chapter 5. War, Mercy and Bubbles.**

I heard them kissing in the corridor, and since I hadn't had my own session of kisses or sex in nearly a week, I thought it would only be fair if they neither did.

"Eight minutes! By the Nine, stop making out where I can hear you!" I screamed, successfully turning them off. After that, Sherlock's little lover whispered.

"I really don't like him."

I could do nothing but chuckle at that. It was so obvious he disliked me. If only he knew how amusing it was for me to tease him. I heard them entering their respective rooms and I grinned.

But then, I pondered about the situation. I had not only abandoned the Stark Tower, but also she had betrayed me. How dared she.

The bitch. I hissed, already thinking in ways of revenge. They went from pranks to real evil, and I couldn't but take pleasure in the thoughts rushing my mind.

But now wasn't the time to think about it. I would have time ahead to plan something appropriate. Now I had to prepare carefully our trip to New York.

It wouldn't be easy; Stark Tower wasn't some easy place to get into. Stark himself had programmed all and each one of the guards, and I recalled that even that assassin, Romanoff, had had a tough time infiltrating. Even if it was just for fun.

But we didn't have to go straightaway to the Avenger headquarters. We could spend a couple of days in a hotel. Maybe I could get rid of John and show Sherlock some quality time… I shivered at the thought, as it brought memories I preferred to leave in a corner in the back of my mind. Memories of the _quality time_ I had spent with a so-called Mr. Stark.

* * *

That day it was cold. It was usually colder in Midgard, anyway, but it was winter, so it was the thing to be expected. It's not as I cared about such banal things as weather. I am a god, after all. Weather could be modelled to my desires, if I wanted so.

I looked away at the window, studying the room inside the building. It had been some months since I first arrived here. At this point things in my life were rather nice. I was not picked on anymore, thanks to Tony, who had proved to be quite a lover. I purred by simply remembering the restless nights with him.

Romanoff and the archer, Clint, were seated in the sofa, cuddling while watching a film. No one else was in the lounge, but I could hear the scientist in the kitchen. I liked him. Bruce had even apologized for the other guy's actions, aka smashing me into the ground senseless. And he had called me puny god. Me. Puny. How dared he. The other guy, I mean. The big green one. I couldn't picture Bruce harming a fly. He had, indeed, been the first one to stop bullying me.

I stretched and stood up. How much time had I been there? I had been practicing magic, and I always lost track of time in those cases. I entered the tower, and headed straight to Stark's room. Or chambers. They were certainly huge. I eyed the couple in the sofa, and felt a mighty urge to get to the bedroom.

Stark wouldn't be there; he was in the workshop most of the time, and only left his lair to eat and sleep. Well, or don't sleep…

I took the lift to the attic and waited impatiently for the machine to get me there. Ugh, human machinery. So bothersome. How could people survive without magic? It was a question I made myself almost every day. The box finally reached the top floor and I walked outside, entering the massive bedroom.

It was not bigger than my own chambers back in Asgard, but it was so different. The furniture was all in black and white, all angles. There were screens and panels everywhere, and the genius could produce more from the most weird places. In the middle of the bedroom there was the huge bed, where theoretically four people could sleep. Truth was, neither Stark nor I liked to sleep much. We had other things in mind when we saw the bed.

I went into the bathroom and glanced towards the jacuzzi. I could use some bubbles right now. I looked to the ceiling, as I did every time I had to talk to that being called Jarvis.

"Jarvis, I'd like to take a bath. With bubbles. Can you make bubbles?" I felt ridiculous talking to the ceiling.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. Your bath will be prepared soon. I'll make extra bubbles for you." The AI answered, and water started to fill the jacuzzi, making a layer of foam in the bottom. "Anything else I may help you with? Do you wish me to call Mr. Stark? I'm sure he would be pleased to be informed." He added. If he were a person he would be smiling.

I had actually thought of waiting for him to come up, but now _that_ seemed like a great idea. Sex in the jacuzzi. "Yes, Jarvis, that would be very helpful. Thank you."

By then the bathtub was almost full, so I undressed myself and got into the warm water, groaning at the temperature. Even if I was a Frost Giant, I still loved hot baths.

Not even a minute later Stark appeared through the door. He had been in his workshop, by the stains of oil and grease of his face and hands. He grunted and got undressed, knowing why I had called him here. That machine of his must have told him. He quickly entered the bathtub, making the water level rise.

Without waiting another moment, I pulled him to me, putting a hand in the back of his neck. He moaned as our lips touched and our tongues started exploring each other's mouth. He hungrily shoved himself closer to my body, until I could feel his growing arousal grinding into my hip. I scratched his scalp with my fingernails, entangling my fingers in that hair of his.

He parted our lips and started to plant soft kisses along my ear, lightly sucking and biting at my earlobe, sending chills down my spine. I placed my free hand in his back, feeling the hard muscle shift under my palm. His mouth travelled down, leaving a trail of goosebumps while he kissed the line of my jaw, my neck… Oh, I simply lost it at my neck. I couldn't stand the rolls of pleasure that invaded me right in that moment. That had always been one of my most sensitive spots.

Tony relentlessly continued his way down my body, lifting his hand to tease one of my nipples so deliciously. He twitched it between his fingers, while he licked and softly bit the other, making me arch under his expert touch.

I was no inexperienced myself. Throughout the centuries I had developed a great sexual appetite I needed to satisfy so very often. I didn't really mind the gender, I was equally good with a man or a woman, as long as they pleased me.

And oh yes Stark _did_ please me.

His head then fell down to the place where my penis was painfully itching to be touched, just to lightly brush the tip with his mouth. I grunted as a complain when he moved his head to my inner tight instead, raising my body out of the water as it were made of air. I moved my hands to my back to support myself in such a position.

His mouth approached my cock, and teased and ghosted over it, repeating the torturing process once again.

"Stark… by fuck's sake. Touch me. Touch me _now_." My voice sounded hoarse in my own ears.

He lifted his face and smirked at me devilishly. "And how do we ask that, Mr. Laufeyson?"

"_Please_. Please, Stark, fuck me." I begged. Under any other circumstances he would have had a pretty tough time trying to make me beg, or even say please, but this was sex. And sex is war, where everything is valid and anything is possible.

I wouldn't tell him that if my life depended on it, but I _loved_ the way he made me plead. Even gods can beg for mercy.

He didn't answer, but moved his face once again to my dick. Finally, he started to slide the tip into his mouth, making slow circles with his tongue. So slowly. So excruciatingly, pleasurably slowly. It drove me crazy. I arched my back to get closer to his skillful mouth, moaning loudly. Tony ran his tongue along the length of my erection, and I felt one of his fingers testing my entrance.

I growled in pleasure as he ate me whole. I ran a hand through his hair, guiding his head up and down, setting a frenetic pace that made me gasp.

His finger went in and out of my hole a couple of times more before he added a second one, making me shiver with desire. He continued with both movements until I felt it. I felt the feeling building inside me, anticipating the orgasm to come. I grasped Stark's hair tightly, quickening the rhythm of his mouth even more, and he dutifully obeyed. The third finger into my hole was the icing of the cake.

"Ah, Stark… A-ah… I'm co-coming, nnnnh."

A couple of moments later I found my release into his mouth and closed my eyes as the orgasm rolled over me like a tidal wave. I was left there for a moment, hanging in the bliss, before Stark pulled me out of it by kissing me roughly. He tasted of me.

"I am not done with you yet, dear. Or are you too tired already?" He asked with a wicked smirk.

"I am a god, you mortal. My stamina is beyond your reach. It is you who you should be worrying about." I mocked, but I was actually panting lightly.

"Good."

He withdrew his fingers from my ass and slid his cock into me. Oh, it felt so good. He entered as deep as he could and stopped for a moment to let me get used to it. Then he pulled out almost completely and slammed back in, making me gasp. He was rock hard, I could sense it. He thrusted again and again, while the only thing I could do was moan helplessly.

He grunted in response, and placed his hands on my hips. His palms were hot, so hot that I swear they left a burn in my skin. I wrapped my hands around his neck tightly, and he bent down for his lips to met mine. He kissed me deeply, thrusting into me so hungrily, so avidly, so roughly I thought I would split in half. It was like fire and ice and thunder and every other force of nature together.

I moaned in that hurricane of skin and heat that were our bodies, and I heard Tony mirror my sounds.

He hit my prostate, and I truly screamed of pleasure. I shifted my body so he could reach that spot again. And he did, once, twice, three times. Again and again, until I no longer knew who I was.

I had another orgasm, this one even greater, and I shouted and screamed Stark's name as my eyes rolled backwards of pure bliss. After some more thrusts, Tony also released, calling my name as he did it.

We lay there for seconds, minutes, hours. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, Tony pulled out and chuckled.

"I totally love bath sex."

"I totally love _sex_." I specified, throwing him a sly glance.

"My God." He said, trying and failing to look scandalised.

"That would be me, yes."

He laughed and kissed me briefly in the lips. "Let's go to bed."

I arched my eyebrow in faux disbelief. "So eager for round two? By the Nine, you do have a problem there, Stark."

"Oh, shut up. You know what I meant."

I did, but it didn't make it less funny. I stood and got out of the bathtub, the bubbles I'd asked for long forgotten.

* * *

"We're ready. Whenever it pleases your royalty." Sherlock's voice pulled me out of my reverie. He was holding a rather big bag. I guessed it only contained the _essential_.

"All right then. Come here. We need to be close to teleport." I demanded. That wasn't true, but I just wanted to see John's pissed face while I hold his lover close to my body too badly. My fault.

I grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and I pulled him to me, reducing our distance to a mere feet. I couldn't help but to smile wickedly at John's facial expression.

I teleported us to New York, without knowing what might we find there.


	6. The One With The Golden Tie Pin

Here I am, with another chapter ready. We have more jealous John around. And obviously, sassy Loki. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 6. The One With The Golden Tie Pin.**

It was a weird feeling, teleporting. As if something or someone grabbed you by your skin and pulled so tightly you feared it would rip it apart. But it wasn't painful at all. Just… weird.

Then you didn't feel anything. Nothing. Like the void, a lack of matter. A great nothingness. That part was quite fascinating, as well as terrifying. As if you could stay there, unchanged and unbothered, for the rest of eternity.

But then, suddenly, you were dragged again by that mysterious force of the start, back to reality, and we appeared in the middle of a crowded street in New York.

I blinked in surprise, by the fact that we had actually been _teleported_ rather than by the incapability of pedestrians to notice three people materialising from the thin air. People are stupid. I had that clear a long time ago.

I looked at John, who furrowed his brow, not quite believing what had just happened. But then I followed the direction of his gaze, and discovered Loki's hand gripped around my wrist, and my own hand gripping his.

How hadn't I seen that before? I am Sherlock Holmes. I saw the minute details. All and each one of them. And I had failed to see that big chunk of detail grabbing my wrist.

Loki didn't seem to notice it, either. Or at least he didn't let go. Instead, he looked around.

"Well, here we are. This is clearly New York City; we are a little bit misplaced but here nevertheless." He looked at us and grinned. It wasn't a good grin at all. "I guess we'll have to stay at a hotel."

That mischievous grin became wider, and it sent chills down my spine. The god was clearly up to something.

Loki turned around and started walking, without even checking if we were following him or not. Annoying god.

I started walking, John beside me. I looked at him, who was also looking at me. "Are you seriously going to let him give us orders?" He scowled, but after he saw my expression his gaze softened. "Because that would really be not you. And you know I love you."

That surprised me; John wasn't usually a man who expressed his feelings in public. Or at all. I paused for a moment and kissed him quickly in the lips. "You're an idiot." That was my way of saying _I love you_ and he knew it. A big smile spread in his face, making him look like a teenager in love. Which he probably was. Even the teenage part, at least when it came to mentality.

But that smile faded quickly, leaving a worried expression. "I think we've lost him. I can't see him."

"Don't worry, Loki has just turned the corner over there. And I bet there's a hotel a couple of metres ahead it. He is probably waiting for us at the door." I answered, without tearing my gaze from John.

"We'd better hurry then, he must be freaking everybody out with that outfit of his." That said, he held out his hand for me to take it. Another affection gesture I was not used to. I took his hand anyway, loving the touch of his skin against mine.

We walked down the street and turned the corner. We saw the hotel and entered the main lounge, trying and failing to find a madman in a costume.

I scanned the room looking for someone who looked out of place or nervous. Three people cheating on their couples, two newly married ones, a bunch of businessman and businesswomen and a famous person I didn't recognise, surrounded by bodyguards and wearing sunglasses. Seriously, who did they think they fooled with sunglasses?

Then I spotted a man by the bar, neatly dressed in a dark green suit and tie, a scarf around his neck. That raven black hair could only belong to one person.

"John, go and book for the night, please." I made a hand gesture towards the reception and started walking.

I approached him, and saw the waiter serve him two drinks. Loki picked up with two of his long and pale fingers the olive floating in his Martini and turned his back to face me. I wasn't close enough as to talk yet, but the god smiled lustfully in my direction and popped the olive into his mouth provocatively. I rolled my eyes. Loki's teasing and lack of boundaries were astonishing.

I arrived by his side and looked up and down at him, collecting as much data as I could. The suit narrowed impossibly at his waist, which meant it was tailor made, English style. The colour matched perfectly the colour of his eyes, but without eclipsing it. The knot of the tie was skilfully done, meaning he had had practise. Probably social events to attend… on Earth? Suit and tie didn't seem the kind of thing Norse gods wore to such events. A golden tie pin in the shape of a serpent created a contrast against the green and the white from the shirt. It had to have a meaning, judging by its use.

Classy. Glamorous. Stylish.

I almost moaned. Not many people knew how to wear a suit, nor did appreciate a good one. Loki did, it seemed.

"Like what you see?" Loki said, amused.

I ignored the question completely. "I didn't know you gods wore human suits. Surely it's not a common thing back in Asgard. And that's a nice tie pin the one you have there. Which is its story?" I counterattacked. His face fell instantly, just for a moment. But enough for me to see it.

"No, Midgardian clothing is seldom amongst us gods. I find it difficult to resist such elegance, though. It certainly is fitting."

"It's tailor made, it sure _is_ fitting!" I exclaimed, noticing the overlook of the question of the tie pin, but I let it go. I would get the information some other time. I just had to push and pull correctly. "I suppose that drink is for somebody?"

"Of course it is. Surely it's something you fancy?" Loki inquired, handling me the other cup for me to try it. I raised it to me mouth, not breaking eye contact with the god. He was the God of Mischief and Trickery. He may do something unexpected, like, _oh_, mischiefs and tricks. His expression remained unaltered, so I allowed the cool drink into my mouth. Actually I did like it, but I wasn't giving Loki that satisfaction. It burnt my throat when I swallowed.

"It's not as bad as I had expected." I brushed it off. "What is its name, by the way?"

"Orgasm." He now did grin mischievously. "And I know you are lying. You have really enjoyed it. I can see it." Loki leaned forward dangerously, stopping mere centimetres from my face. "In your eyes."

John had to choose _exactly_ that moment to come to us. The look on his face was… expressive. And it wasn't a positive emotion the one he was showing, either. Loki just ignored him completely, but by his body language he knew he was there.

"I… uh… have booked the rooms." He spluttered, murdering the god with his gaze. "One for Sherlock and for me and another for Loki. We should go up now."

Loki tore his eyes from mine and fixed them on John, who seemed to shrink. "I am _not_ sleeping alone."

"Why not?" John asked, as if fearing the answer.

"Maybe our high and mighty god Loki here is afraid of the dark. Or did you forget your beloved teddy bear in the run?" I teased, just to delay the arrival of the answer.

Loki smirked. It was a bitter grin, and I regretted having said that.

"No, my dear, the matter is way more serious than the childish behaviours I may or may not have." He paused for a moment and breathed deeply. "If I sleep alone I have nightmares." Well, that was not the answer I was fearing. I almost felt bad for being relieved. "I dream of blood and war, pain and suffering and desolation and loss. They're not common nightmares. They're memories. And I'm tired of them haunting me."

I looked at the god, seeing him for the first time. In that moment everything, every little detail acquired an entirely different meaning. The tie pin. The longing in his voice when he talked about Asgard. The way he acted, pushing everybody and everything a little further, just to see when it would break or bend. Whichever came first.

It was stunning how Loki's moods swung.

"Sherlock! Thank you for volunteering to sleep with me. That's truly considerate of you. I'm sure your lover won't mind, will he now?" And like that, as fast as a snap of fingers, teasing, playful Loki was back. Vulnerable Loki, the one who had just confessed having memories haunting him in his sleep, was no longer in sight.

"I do mind!" John yelled. He had clearly booked the rooms so Loki was as far as possible. He didn't expect his move to backfire. "You won't spend the night with my boyfriend! And he has said nothing, he hasn't offered!"

"But, John, we can't let him alone! He'll just come running like a scared child into our bed if he has those nightmares." I tried to argue, foreseeing what he would do.

"Yes, because sneaking into other people's bed is my speciality. Isn't it, Sherlock?" His face couldn't be any more provocative. I bit my lower lip, recalling last night's events. And the morning's. He had actually sneaked into mine.

John looked at me helplessly. I looked at him too. We had a silent conversation that lasted two seconds, no more. Finally, he looked away.

"I'll go ask we are given a bigger room instead of two." I announced, pointing at the office. Loki pulled at my sleeve, making me stop.

"They won't change it so easily. Let's go, I'll just make an extra bed appear. And we can keep the other room. You never know when your lover won't stand us anymore. He seems pretty jealous already. I love that furrowed expression he has when he is jealous. He almost looks like a hedgehog, doesn't he?"

I rolled my eyes, and saw John became really annoyed by the god, which only accentuated that furrow Loki had just mentioned. This last one looked exactly like an excited five year old boy with a brand new thing he could blow up.

Childish, they called me. They didn't know the God of Mischief.

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Well, it seems that the three of them are going to sleep together. That is going to be... interesting, isn't it? Please, review :)


	7. Theories, Fantasies & Nightmares

Sorry for the delay, I was super busy at school. I'm in middle of the exams now *dies of exhaustion*. Fortunately, in two weeks it will be over and I will be back to update sooner.

Patience, please! And review!

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**Chapter 7. Theories, Fantasies and Nightmares.**

I hadn't lied. I told them I would make a bed appear; I said nothing about what I would do with the existing ones. That's not lying.

I never lie.

And I was not called Silvertongue and Liesmith for nothing, either. Yes, the Liesmith one certainly involved lies, but that's just for the stupid enough ones, who didn't appreciate my fine work with words and called them lies. Morons.

I had thought Sherlock wasn't that kind, and it was proved right the moment I exchanged one of the single sized beds for a double one and toss him onto it. His entertainment ended up rather _magically_ on the other bed, the one that was originally in the room.

John was closer to that sort of men I despised. But maybe he was just acting that way out of jealousy. Anyway, I liked Sherlock better. _Way_ better.

"Oi, what do you think you are doing?" John yelled, trying to get up from the bed. I tied him there with a light movement of my fingers.

"So annoying, so noisy. Haven't you ever thought of how beautiful the silence is?" Another movement and he was unable to speak. Oh yes. Much better.

I turned my back to the now immobile human and watched Sherlock carefully. It was truly difficult for me to know what he was thinking. Now _that_ was an unusual thing. I am pretty good at reading people. It's part of my charm.

I had a theory, though. Sherlock, the only consulting detective in the world, the freak. People —idiots— couldn't see how wonderful and superior he was, but only saw he was different. And as everything that is different to humans, they tossed it aside. They couldn't quite comprehend him, so he didn't deserve to be an equal. He was a freak. He would always be. And he would be treated as such.

And so Sherlock the freak learnt not to trust people or show any emotion. Because they would use that, something they understood and very much liked to manipulate, to hurt him. Once, twice, three times. Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Again and again, Sherlock the freak was hurt.

But then John came into his life. He was such a pain, but he had done so much. All the socializing Sherlock did, all the _Sherlock, not good_ John said. As if he were a child. Because he was. He was a child who had been hurt way too many times before. But Sherlock was learning to open himself. Because he had found someone he could rely on. Someone he could trust. He had found a friend, a lover. John.

What exactly was John didn't really matter, as I had experienced myself through the centuries. But I wasn't John; I couldn't help him. I was too damaged myself. I was Sherlock the freak once, before I covered my heart in ice and sarcasm and indifference.

"Like what you see?" Sherlock snapped me out of my reverie. That was _my_ phrase. He dared steal my phrase. I narrowed my eyes while I pierced with my gaze.

"Oh yes, what I see pleases me very much, thank you." I pointed at him and his clothes instantly vanished. He blushed. Sherlock Holmes actually _blushed_.

The detective covered himself with a pillow, but it was too late. I had already seen him.

"I suggest you got into bed instead of blushing like a little girl."

I turned my back and entered the bathroom, moving slightly my fingers to free John from my magic, who was still struggling against the invisible strains. I didn't make Sherlock's clothes reappear, though. It had been way too much fun to watch him trying to look composed when it was so ridiculously obvious he wasn't.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I had bags under my eyes after the last sleepless nights. Actually, the night before had been the first in over a week when I had been able to sleep properly, without nightmares.

I got undressed and entered the shower. I let the water pour over me for some minutes before I grabbed the gel bottle. The hot water had created a coat of steam that covered the tiles and mirror, making the room look like out of a dream.

I sighed heavily. Now that I was alone it was more difficult to keep the nonchalant façade I usually wore. It was too easy to remember and to feel. Neither of them was pleasant.

I started to rub the soap on my body, my fingers touching everywhere. This feeling was not unwelcome, though, and it was a nice distraction from the haunting memories.

My hands took over and my brain shut off, glad to not to have to work anymore. My palms traveled down my chest and belly, and further down, fingers playing and tugging.

I took my dick and started to move my hand, slowly at first, the pace quickening as my heart rate rose. I pressed my forearm to the tiled wall, and my head tilted backwards, the hand not stopping.

My mind had to fantasise, though. I imagined strong hands with stains of oil and grease holding me, like they had done so many times before. I thought I could feel them caressing my back, digging fingernails into my flesh, leaving marks that spoke of our battles.

Sex is war.

I came close to my climax, and I was panting lightly. I still could feel the ghosts of hands holding me, but they were nothing but phantoms that were no longer beside me.

They suddenly changed. They were no longer Stark's. Now cold hands ran through my body, long pale fingers exploring it. I knew those hands. They were the hands of a certain violinist.

With a loud moan, I came, closing my eyes and getting lost in the sensation for a moment. I pressed my forehead to the wall and let the water fall down my back and neck. It was almost boiling, but I could not care less. I liked that way.

I stayed immobile for a while, just listening to the sound of pouring water drumming in my ears. What had just happened? I hadn't fantasised with Sherlock, had I? By the Nine, I was way more desperate than I had thought.

I quickly finished the shower and got out. Grabbing a white towel from one of the hangers I rolled it around my waist, my hair dripping water upon the floor. I dried it with magic, but not completely, though. My power was diminished without the sceptre, and teleporting the two humans and myself from London to New York had drained me.

I could really use a little nightmare free sleep right now.

I was about to open the bathroom door when I heard the sound of a violin playing a beautiful tune. I stood there, doorknob in hand, mesmerised by the music, until it faded away. I could hear soft conversation in the other room, and a chuckle from Sherlock.

When the song finished, I exited the bathroom and found the two humans kissing. A betrayed jealousy stung me, for which I was actually surprised. Surely having fantasised about Sherlock back in the shower didn't have anything to do with it. _Of course not._ The couple hadn't noticed me, so I cleared my throat.

Sherlock pulled away straightaway, his high cheekbones flaring, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't. What a lovely view. His lover just stood there, that amusing frustrated frown spreading in his forehead.

"As much as I would love to see you two hooking up forever, I am also in need of my beauty sleep."

I smiled wickedly and strode towards the closet. I made some clothes appear in the hangers and picked up a grey t-shirt and boxers. I unrolled the towel and tossed it to the floor, before putting on the clothes. I could feel Sherlock staring at me, which made me smirk. Then I walked to the bed and got in.

"Are you two going to sleep anytime soon or should I create myself earmuffs?" I arched an eyebrow. "I don't think I could bear any more of your public affection showing."

John rolled his eyes and crawled into his bed before throwing Sherlock a last warning glance. The other man came warily and not breaking eye contact with me, but he finally lied down on the bed beside me.

"I do not bite. At least not if you don't ask me to." John choked when he heard that, but Sherlock just looked away, turning his back to me.

"Goodnight John, Loki." He said, stretching his arm to switch off the lights. His lover mumbled an answer I suspected didn't contain the _Loki_ part, but I wasn't paying attention; my mind was occupied with other matters.

What did Sherlock's attitude come from? Just a couple of hours ago he was responding to my remarks with equally sarcastic ones, and now? Now he blushed and avoided my eyes. Had John convinced him to stay away from me? Or he was just weary of our little game of flirting?

Was I so paranoid about him because of what had happened in the shower?

Did it really matter?

Eventually I fell asleep, the last thing I noticed was how close Sherlock was sleeping, almost _on_ me.


	8. The One Who Was Vulnerable

I'm so busy with all the exams, so please a little patience! Thank you all, please review :)

* * *

**Chapter 8. The One Who Was Vulnerable.**

I woke up to Loki's voice. Well, he wasn't exactly _talking_; he was sleep talking. Sleep mumbling. Whatever. I checked the hour. 3:57. Damn. I was about to drift back to sleep when I caught some words of what he was saying.

"Monster… I do not want… to be… a monster… I'm trying… _Please_."

That last word was an utter plead, and it made my heart clench. I knew what to do in such a situation, as John had nightmares at first too, so I got up and put the palm of my hand on his black hair, caressing it softly.

"Loki." He opened his eyes slowly and looked around for a moment, realizing where he was. Then he looked up at me, a glint of fear flashing in those dashing green eyes.

I muttered soothing words as _it's OK, you're safe now_, while I held him to my chest. He was shaking.

Loki had said the night before he had nightmares if he slept alone. That's the main reason why I had agreed to sleep with him. But even then he had nightmares. How worse could it be if he were alone? The thought of leaving the god on his own made me shiver.

We stayed like that for what it seemed like a really long time, and it probably was, judging by the stiffness of my muscles when Loki finally went back to sleep, still clenched to my pyjamas. I didn't dare pry off his grip, so I simply lied back down and tried to sleep again.

* * *

The next time it was John's voice the one who woke me up. This time there was daylight pouring through the windows, which made me close my eyes in pain. It hurt.

"Sherlock." He purred. I was momentarily startled by his tone, but my mind started running and it quickly made sense. "Sherlock, he's asleep."

"Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. And?" I complained. I wasn't in the mood for games. But then John was oblivious to any of my moods.

"I want you. Isn't that obvious too?" He whispered to my ear and climbed in top of me.

His jump startled me wide awake. I looked up at him and admired his face, the square jaw and the grey eyes. I growled softly and pulled him by the neck to me. As soon as our lips came together all the sleep I may have remaining disappeared.

Morning sex was the best.

I deepened the kiss, getting slightly up to get as close to John as possible.

He ran his fingers through my curls, pulling lightly and making me moan. He knew my scalp was one of my weak points. I would be in my knees begging for mercy if he pulled correctly.

And hell John knew how to pull correctly.

I was supporting in my elbows, but I shifted so I had a free hand. John was not the only one who knew soft spots.

I brushed the tip of my fingers against his chest, barely touching him. That made him growl in frustration, and he leaned forward, craving for my touch. I smirked and put my hand out of his reach. John tugged my hair as a response, which sent chills down my spine.

His lips left mine and moved down to the line of my jaw, where he started kissing and biting my neck. His lips left a trail of fire wherever they passed, making me hard. I let out a whine and tilted my head to give him better access to it.

I reached down for his pants and pulled them down, freeing his erection. He was really hard, which only aroused me more.

We rolled and I positioned on top of him. I locked my eyes with his and saw a sly smile spread across his face. I smirked back and crawled backwards to his hip, kissing his bare skin along the way down.

I ghosted my mouth over the tip of his cock for a moment before I licked the head, making circles with my tongue.

John groaned and grabbed my hair, entangling his fingers in the curls. Impatient.

Finally, I put it in my mouth and settled a steady rhythm. He forced the pace with the hand he had in my head, making it quicker and rougher.

No time for romance then. What a shame.

I moved up and down, my eyes not leaving his face, while I saw his expression morph from excitement to lust and to pleasure. I stopped for a moment and passed my tongue over the whole length, making him shiver under my touch.

With my hand I continued to stroke his cock, and I used my mouth to stimulate his nipples. I bit them softly and twitched them with the fingers of my other hand.

That was his undone. John arched his back, screaming my name as he came. Cum splattered on my belly and hand, but I couldn't care less.

I rolled to the side, slightly panting. I landed on something, or rather _someone_. That's when I remembered the sleeping God of Mischief in the very same bed as us.

I sprung and looked at Loki, who was still safely asleep. He looked peaceful, all the attitude and barriers gone. He seemed young, despite he probably was a gazillion years old. Or, by what I had deduced from the Norse mythology, a thousand.

I relaxed a little and rested on John's chest for a moment. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. I inhaled deeply and said:

"We should probably get up."

I didn't want Loki to find us like that, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, I didn't know why. It was completely logical not to want other people to discover you in such a situation. Less if said people were in the same bed as yourself.

Like in this case.

"We should." John put a finger under my chin and made me look at him. "Shower? You haven't come yet."

It was true, but I wasn't really bothered about it. On the other hand, shower sex sounded great, so I nodded and got up from the bed carefully as not to wake the sleeping god.

John entered the bathroom and I followed. I glanced back one last time and I think I saw a mess of black hair moving on the pillow.

Never mind.

John grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me inside the bathroom, kissing me hard when I turned.

"Ready for round two, Sherlock?" He asked, not separating his lips from mine. I growled as an answer and walked backwards into the shower, pulling him with me.

The bathtub was small, not made for two, so we were pretty close. Not that I wanted it any other way.

This time John turned on the water stream before getting to his knees. His wet hair and lustful smirk made him look like a demon. A badass motherfucking sexy demon.

He caressed my knee first, then moved to my inner thigh, kissing me on his painstakingly slow way up. I groaned in anticipation, but John stopped and stood up.

He waited a couple of seconds, until I complained about the sudden halt. I thought we were here for _me_ to come.

"John…" I begged. "Continue."

"Make me." He answered defiantly.

I grabbed his forearm and pulled down, catching him off guard. That made him fall to his knees again, but John simply looked up and bit his lip.

"I love it when you make me."

Then he resumed his sweet torture. Each centimetre he touched was on fire, leaving a trace of scorched skin, like a road map.

John groaned against my thigh and finally grabbed my cock. He placed his thumb on the tip and made circles, spreading the precum around it. He raised his hand and stuck his finger out to my mouth. I understood perfectly what he wanted me to do, and I complied.

I opened my mouth and welcomed the wet finger, tasting the salty on it. I didn't look away from his eyes while doing that. I circled my tongue around the finger, curling and entangling it.

John removed it and continued masturbating me until I felt that well known sensation building up inside me. I reached climax screaming his name loudly, as I always did. It didn't take much this time, though. All the foreplay and the _round one_ had me over the edge already.

I dropped against the wall of the shower, trying to catch my breath. I had my eyes closed, still lost in the afterglow, but I could feel John kissing me so very softly. He started with the eyelids, to then continue trailing down to my lips and ending up planting the lightest of kisses on them.

"I love you." He said, resting his head against my chest and hugging my waist.

"You are an idiot." I answered, and felt his smile on my skin. "Are you still mad at me? You know, for accepting Loki's case and all that."

"I'm not. I mean, I was mad. But not anymore. I can't be mad at you for a long time."

"Don't lie to me or try to bribe me with words. I can tell when you're lying. Your body stiffens and you hesitate a little when you are about to speak." He sighed, but said nothing.

"I'm not _completely_ lying. I'm not mad at you; that's true. I'm mad at Loki. And at myself, for letting it affect me." He frowned. I wanted to kiss the frown away, but I refrained. John would stop talking if I did it.

So I just listened and observed in silence.

"You don't… wouldn't do anything, I trust you enough as to know that, but I can't help but to worry about _him_. He's unpredictable, and has an interest in you. I don't know what he could do." He confessed.

That was unexpected; John wasn't a person who could express his feelings easily. The last days' gestures were strange enough by themselves.

"Don't be angry. Loki is a client, and I wouldn't let anything happen, even if he tried. I would possibly kick his god ass for even thinking such a thing."

"That's exactly my point! You can't know what he will do. He's made of ego, disdain, hate and an astonishing lack of boundaries. There's nothing good about him!"

Memories of last night sprung to my mind. When I had soothed him to sleep, when he had been afraid, truly terrified of his inner monsters.

When he had been _vulnerable_.

But I couldn't bring myself to speak them out loud. I couldn't stand up for Loki, as hard as I wanted to. I just couldn't. Those memories were something Loki would want no one to know about, something that must be shared by the god himself. Loki was too proud for any other thing.

Those memories weren't mine, even if I had been part of them.

I didn't even bother in getting John out of his error somehow; it was really tedious to do so with everybody, at all times. So in the end I had stopped doing it.

"You are cute when you're jealous." I whispered instead. That probably wasn't the correct way to continue the conversation, with some dumb remark, but it was the only thing I could think of in that moment.

"I'm not jealous! That poor excuse of a god is no threat to me." He pouted and I laughed, because it was all too obvious he was.

I kissed him before he could reply anything more. "Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, whatever. Life in denial is _so much_ better." I mocked. We still hadn't separated our lips, but I pulled away and took his hand, guiding him out of the shower. "Let's get out. I want to start this case."

John just sighed and followed me, resigned.

* * *

In case you were wondering, yes, Sherlock's soft spot are Benedict's _sensitive follicles._


	9. Monsters, Powerlessness & The Real World

**Chapter 9. Monsters, Powerlessness & The Real World.**

I thought Sherlock would keep the nightmares at bay. Sleeping with someone usually did it.

It hadn't. But they hadn't been normal nightmares either. After a week of sleepless nights full of the haunting memories of the void in-between the branches of the Yggdrasil after I fell from the Bifröst, I had expected some kind of relief in unconsciousness.

Relief I hadn't got.

Images of the Avengers in the shadows, their faces covered in the most absolute darkness. There was no mistaking them, though. I knew it was them with that certainty one only has on dreams.

Then, suddenly, two lights appeared and enlightened both me and one of the shadowy figures. Stark's face then lit up. I knew it was him even before my mind realised it was his face the one I was looking at.

Just that it wasn't him.

The features were his, but not the expression or the vicious glint in his eyes. It wasn't even something I had seen for a really long time. It was something feral, maniac (and trust me, I knew maniac quite well from when I was at my lowest), ruthless, _evil_.

The last time I had seen a look like that my children were taken away from me.

It was also the time I had slaughtered the ones who did so. Every and each one of them. Even if they were just pawns, their eagerness when kidnapping them was a crime horrible enough. My children were not with them, though.

But I perfectly knew who was after that order. Odin the All Father.

I hadn't taken revenge. Not yet. But I would. Someday, when he was happy and relaxed, I would strike and make his life Hell. Just like the one he made of mine.

I was completely paralysed by that look, overwhelmed by all it implied. I had managed to get out of my mind most of the feelings I carried with me wherever I went, but now the gates were completely open. Emotions I hadn't felt, I hadn't _allowed_ myself to feel, for centuries were all rushing within me, a devastating and scorching hurricane, leaving nothing but ash and dust on its way.

"Monster. You are a monster. You betrayed us, you betrayed _me_. Monster. Who would ever love a monster?" The no Stark said. It was a cold, inhuman voice. "Because I can't. I don't love you, Loki. You are nothing but a pathetic monster. No one will ever be able to love you."

The fact that it was Stark's face the one pronouncing those words only made it worse. Because for Stark I cared. Stark I loved.

Stark kept repeating that, over and over. I wanted to run, away from the silhouettes, away into the darkness. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink or speak. I was completely powerless, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Monster I had been called before, and I could convince myself that was not Stark, so it was not him uttering the words. They hurt less if it wasn't Stark.

"No, please. I'm not a monster. I know… I'm trying not to… I don't want to be… A monster. _Please_."

That sounded like a plea and it was. A plea from someone completely vulnerable, completely powerless.

But you can't fight powerlessness. That's the point of it. You can do _nothing_ against it. You are not in control of yourself, you can't _choose_.

Then, the rest of the Avengers started to talk. They repeated what the other Stark was saying, at different speeds and points, but the same words, nevertheless.

Eventually, the shadows themselves were also chanting. They all said similar things, but each one of them was different from the others.

I tried to look away from Stark's face, but my gaze was locked in his. That malevolent glint was still there, flashing deadly in his brown eyes.

"Are you afraid, Loki?" He then asked, smiling unpleasantly.

I was not going to answer yes. Not ever. My whole dignity and pride prevented me from admitting such an emotion. But I _knew_, just knew, that I wasn't actually afraid.

This nightmare was not like the ones I was used to. That didn't necessarily mean it was worse. Here, I was aware it was a dream. Here, they couldn't hurt me, not really. It was not _real_. It was terrifying, and I was not completely sure of how such a thing was possible, but I was terrified and not afraid at the same time.

I was terrified because it was scary. Many things I feared were there. Monster. Stark's coldness. The cruelty of my children being taken away. Powerlessness.

I wasn't afraid, though, for it was all an invention. Not real. It couldn't hurt me in the real world. In the real world, Sherlock was sleeping beside me. In the real world, I was not powerless. In the real world, I could fight. I could choose.

Stark darkly laughed, throwing his head backwards.

"You fool. You think you are safe. You think Sherlock is going to protect you. He won't. As soon as he knows who you really are, he will abandon you." His cold, hating eyes fixed on Loki, who shook lightly. "He will abandon you as everyone else does. Because you. Are. A. Monster. And you do not deserve to be loved."

He laughed again maniacally while my skin turned to dark blue. When Tony had looked away I had been able to move my gaze, but not my whole body.

I could move just enough to see my hands starting to morph, nails turning black, skin becoming blue. This was what I feared most. Not the monster part. The _meaning_ of monster.

I watched in utter horror how the blue was spreading up my arms, down my chest and legs, into my face. I could almost feel the moment my eyes tinted red. I shuddered, grateful for the darkness surrounding me. Only a light above lit a little space around me.

"Oh, so you want the darkness? Do you not desire to see yourself? To observe who you are, _what you are?_" I looked at the shadow again, in utter disbelief. He chuckled loudly. "You think your thoughts are private? Do you really think you can escape me?"

Suddenly, the silhouette started to walk towards me. It was grinning. He stopped at a feet's distance, and shoved a finger painfully in my chest.

"I am your deepest fears. I am everything you are afraid of and anything you don't want to lose. Because you will. You will lose _everything_. Everything you love and care about. Everything you are. You cannot escape me. I am _you_."

Those words, along with my Jotunn form, were too much to bear. I started shaking violently, trying to get away from that cold voiced machine with the face of Tony Stark.

And I was suddenly startled awake. Sherlock was caressing my hair protectively, murmuring soothing words and keeping me close to his body.

I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. It was over. I was awake now. Still, I couldn't make the shudders stop.

I breathed slowly until I regained control over my body, but even when I did I didn't pull away from the man holding me. It felt good, to have someone protecting you. To have someone caring enough as to wake up at some unearthly hour and stay soothing me like I was some fearful child.

Because, in that moment, I was. Even if I wouldn't accept it out loud.

I don't know when I drifted back to sleep. But I had no more nightmares.

* * *

How I managed to sleep while John assaulted Sherlock I didn't know. I wasn't even properly asleep, just sleepy enough as not to process completely what was happening.

Once the moans started, though, there was no way I could have remained asleep. I rolled my eyes at Sherlock's lack of imagination when it came to blowjobs. By what I was hearing he didn't have the skill in his tongue… yet.

Then he rudely bumped on me. I had to make a real effort in order not to hit him in that moment. He should learn to respect other people's personal spaces… Oh. I get it. The pot calling the kettle black and all that.

When they went into the bathroom I got up and quickly got dressed with some Midgardian clothes. I loved suits, but they were formal, I believe. Not for everyday use. A shame, really. So I settled for a dark green plain shirt and some black trousers.

I put the tie pin in the shape of Jörmungandr into my pocket. It was my charm, I always had it with me. Then I scribbled a note for the couple telling I had gone out to _investigate_.

Truth was, after my kind of encounter with Stark I didn't feel like watching romance at all. Or sex. Or anything near that. I hoped fresh air helped me clear my mind.

I picked up a pair of shoes and some accessories humans carried everywhere they went, like paper money –seriously, how stupid is that? _Paper money_. It didn't have any value itself. Everyone could buy paper– or a phone. They were a funny thing, phones. You could almost do anything with them; play games, communicate with other Midgardians or get into the ever present net.

My mind already drifting to less dangerous or gloomy thoughts, I exited the hotel room as I heard Sherlock screaming as he climaxed. I rolled my eyes to that. Noisy.

I was in New York. There was plenty to investigate.


	10. Smoke, Sweat & Steel

I'm back! I know it's been long since the last chapter, sorry for that.

Here Loki goes out to explore New York, and I've tried to stick to the actual plan of the city, but I don't know if it's completely correct. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter 10. Smoke, Sweat & Steel.**

I only realised the mistake I had made once I stepped out of the hotel.

I was in _New York_.

Avengers HQ were in New York.

The Avengers, and hence Stark, were most probably in the city.

I wasn't a prisoner anymore, but my running off like that wasn't going to help me make a point about my being non-evil.

Maybe they were looking for me.

That thought made me shiver, and I pondered the idea of turning back into the hotel and away of any cameras that may be in the street. You can never know when they're been used to spy on you, or to discover your position. Better to be careful.

But I refrained. That would mean they won. They hadn't won, I hadn't _let them_ won, in the months they had done everything they could to break me down without physically harming me, back in Stark Tower.

They definitely would not start now.

Besides, if they were truly looking for me they would already be here. They would have searched the print of my magic and known my exact location the very first moment I set foot on the city.

That hurt more than what I was prepared to admit. I thought about shape shifting into some dull and ordinary human, but my pride refused. And so did I. I would not hide. Not here, not from the Avengers. They were Midgardians, after all. Quite extraordinary amongst their kind, but _human_.

I walked past the glass doors of the hotel, and found myself somewhere between two busy commercial streets.

I stopped and casted a locator spell to know where I was. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, shutting off any sound from the noisy city. I couldn't concentrate as well in big metropolises as I did normally, but that didn't impede me from being an extraordinary mage. I concentrated on the words the spell required, as well as the hand's movements.

Those were important. Very important, even more than the words. The phrasing was just the embodiment of an idea; I just used a physical vessel to make it more channelled, even if by doing that they lost accuracy. But you can't put into words a movement. You simply can't. You just have to actually _do_ the movement for it to understand its purpose. For it to link with the idea and the magic and create the proper spell.

With my magic restrained as it was, it wasn't going to be as powerful as it would be under other circumstances, but it would do. I had spent more than a year in this city, but I had hardly gone out of the Stark Tower, or Avengers HQ, as most of them called it now. Not Tony. Of course not Tony. It would always be Stark Tower for him.

First I hadn't gone out because of my status. Prisoners aren't usually allowed outside, you see. And once I was free and returned my magic… Well, because I didn't want to. There were far more attractions in the Tower. Like, let's say, sex. Sex is a great attractive, whichever way you look at it. And Stark loved it almost as much as I did.

So, in the end, I hadn't visited New York at all. Not that I cared, for it being Midgard. I wasn't interested in Midgard. Not before, at least. Now… I could learn some basics. It would be useful, if not entertaining.

Perhaps I should ask Sherlock to teach me. I could almost imagine the exasperated expression he would have if I played dumb. That would definitely make it worth play dumb.

I smiled absentmindedly as I finished the spell. Oh. According to it I was between the Sixth Avenue and the 54th Street. I dug a little deeper and discovered a big park somewhere to my left, not too far. Everything around me buzzed with life and rush, as it always happened in big cities. I couldn't stand it for long. A park was exactly what I needed.

And there was a pond too. Water was really useful at spell crafting, especially when it came to visions. The purer the water, the easier you could visualise other people's… No. I would not observe what the Avengers or Thor or Stark were doing. My mind was wandering towards thoughts I didn't want to get into. That was the point of this, wasn't it? To get away from everything for half an hour.

I shook my head to get rid of the unpleasant feelings and started walking. A park. Central Park. That was good. Big, quiet place, I assumed. With hidden places in the shade of trees and calm corners without visitors. I liked that. I _needed_ that.

I stopped and looked up for a moment, breathing in. The scent was faint, covered by all the other smells of the city. Smoke, sweat and steel. But it was there nonetheless. The scent of… green. Trees and plants making the photosynthesis, out in the sun. I had to be close to the park.

I opened my eyes and continued walking, guided by my nose. The Midgardians didn't have the senses as developed as the Aesir or Frost Giants, and relied mostly on their eyes and ears. Pathetic. You can train your senses to sharpen and enhance them. Humans shouldn't settle with only two of five senses. It just makes them vulnerable.

I was astonished I had been defeated by such defenceless creatures. And I would be quite embarrassed too, if it wasn't because I didn't really _want_ to rule them.

After I fell from the Bifröst, the Mad Titan found me. At the time I had felt relieved, happy even, that somebody had indeed found me. I didn't want to discover if I was truly immortal by staying in the void for too long. But those emotions didn't last long. As soon as the torture started, they faded, replaced by sheer agony. I don't know how long I was there. I don't even want to know. I don't care.

Then, it is understandable I used the first chance I had to escape my destiny, isn't it? I overheard a conversation between Thanos, the Mad Titan, and his second on command, the Other. They planned to conquer Midgard and then reach Asgard through it. I could now see why he had chosen Midgard; so naive, so unaware of everything happening around them. That's the ultimate surprise factor.

So I lead an army to this planet, but didn't command it as I should have. And I do not do half-assed works. My plan worked out perfectly. Well, except for the part where the Chitauri actually made it to New York. It was _internal sabotage_. I let them think I wasn't as focused as usual because of the torture and the mental state I had at the moment. And it was not a lie, indeed.

I never lie.

But I could have done it so much better, if I had wanted. A mental breakdown and severe torture couldn't put me out forever. And even if I was not completely stable, I could think clearly enough as to know what I was doing. I even left little hints for the Avengers to get what I was actually doing, but I guess I overestimated them.

At this point I was so submerged in my thoughts that I barely noticed I had already reached the park. My feet moved in autopilot and got me into the grove, away from unwanted eyes. The sound of the cars and people was muffled there.

It was nearly as perfect as I had imagined it. It was as calm a place as I could have found in such a big city.

I kept walking, still letting my feet choose the path. But the autopilot had disadvantages too. My feet dragged me towards the pond. I stopped in front of it when I realised it. I could see my reflection on the surface.

I bit my lip, and the one on the water mimicked the gesture.

I shouldn't spy on the Avengers. It had been just a week without any contact, but after more than a year of seeing them almost daily that seemed like a lot of time.

I realised I _missed them._

Well, that was new. Looking back at how our relationship had started it was a great improvement. My trying to conquer Midgard and kill them, and all that. I hadn't really wanted to rule over this planet, but I would have killed them if they had got in my way.

Still, it wasn't going to do to spy on them. I would want to actually _see_ them. Tossing their memories aside was the only way. It had been the only way with my children, at least.

But I needed to watch them, to know they were doing OK. That Stark was doing OK. Or maybe not. Maybe I wanted him to feel miserable, to be devastated and to regret what he had said back in the Tower. I just didn't know what I wanted.

I dropped to my knees, looking down into the water. I raised a hand tentatively, and slowly started the spell. The surface of the water wavered as when you throw a pebble, but then stilled on a small area. The rest of the lake seemed now to be quivering, little waves disrupting the peaceful waters.

I focused on what I wanted to see. I chose Stark, mainly because he was the easiest for me to picture and track, but also because a little guilty part of me desired to see him.

And image started to appear, blurry at first, but it became more and more defined with each second passing. I gasped sharply. The first thing I could see was him, Stark. He was dressed casually, well, as casually as Tony Stark ever dressed, and had his ever present sunglasses on. Then other figures appeared around him. The Avengers. Memories of my last nightmare flashed behind my eyes and I winced. _Don't be a coward, you are awake now_.

_But the worst nightmares happen when you are awake._

They were all dressed informal too, but the fact that they were all together and in Avengers mode made it clear they were not there for fun.

Finally, the background materialised. It was a street, as any if the ones I had seen before in New York. Busy, noisy, crowded. They were indeed here, then. _All_ of them.

They were walking down the street, but there were no jokes or light ambiance. There was no conversation, but the sounds would be muffled anyway. I only heard a tense comment from Stark trying to sound snarky but only managing to be uncomfortable.

It worried me, in a non-egotistical, selfless manner. And I didn't get a lot of those moments. What were the Avengers doing so tense? It couldn't be about me, could it? Was someone else causing trouble in the city? I concentrated on hearing what they were saying rather than on the image, despite that little part of me who wanted to keep stalking Stark for a while more.

"I can't believe he dares to appear here of all places." Said Hawkeye. "If I were him I would be on the other part of the planet."

"But you are not him. Uh, you'd better not be him. It would be terribly awkward in bed." Stark added.

_Oh._ So it _was_ about me. Were they there just to look for me? What for?

"Tony, you didn't have to come. You could've stayed in the Tower." Bruce offered, looking at the billionaire from the corner of the eye. Stark sighed and suddenly appeared to look much older.

"I _have_ to. I need an explanation. He fled before I could cool my head and think rationally. I need him to give me that explanation before we decide what to do with him."

_What to do with me? I am a prisoner no more! He can't just decide on my behalf. I am Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard and Jötunheim. A mere mortal, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Anthony Fucking Stark or not, does not have the right to decide for me!_

Natalia raised an eyebrow. "I thought we agreed that we were going to capture him for questioning. Now that we know…" She trailed off slowly.

Now that we know _what_? _What_? What did cause my downfall this time?

"Tony, I know this is hard. But it's what we need to do. We can't trust him. We'll arrest him and keep him locked until we find out what is he up to." Rogers said, almost apologetically. "I am sorry."

Stark looked helplessly at Thor, who looked resigned and devastated. The Thunderer didn't even notice the glance as he was so busy staring at the pavement.

"What about… what about the others? According to the readings there were other two human like bodies when he teleported." Thor looked up inquisitively. "What do we do with them, if they are indeed human?"

"Kill them." "Bring them in for questioning too." Answered Hawkeye and Romanoff at unison. Thor winced at Barton's suggestion, but didn't say anything.

That helped me to think enough as to realise the situation. I quickly scanned the street I was looking at through the water, and found a little nameplate on the corner of the street. 47th and Sixth Avenue.

I closed the channel and sprung to my feet.

I ran as fast as I could towards the hotel, trying in vain to reach it before the Avengers did. I would not allow them to drag Sherlock into my own problems. They were mine, and I would deal with them somehow. I always did.

I ran in spite of the glares I got from running past people who looked as they believed I was going to rob them. Whatever, it was of no matter. I bumped into a couple of people I couldn't manage to avoid in time but didn't wait to apologise. This was exactly the problem with big cities. Too much people. Not enough politeness.

I saw the group arrive at the hotel front doors just the moment I turned a corner into the Sixth Avenue. I swore while panting and I gathered up all the energy remaining inside me. It wasn't nearly enough as to make me feel comfortable with it, but I had no choice. I ignored the slight complain of my subconscious and morphed into a random Midgardian. Dull, ordinary, _boring_.

Then I teleported into the hotel room, hoping it was not too late already. Not again. Not this time.


	11. The One Who Has A Superiority Complex

**Chapter 11. The One Who Has A Superiority Complex**

John found the note Loki had left, but didn't read it out loud. He refused. I walked up to his back and read it from above his shoulder.

_I could not bear your moans and whines a minute more so I've decided to go out to investigate the city._

_With love,_

_Loki._

_PS: Sherlock, dear, you really have to be more imaginative when giving blowjobs. I could teach you, tell me when you've grown bored of your entertainment. Or before, whenever pleases you._

I blushed and looked away, glaring at the bedside lamp. That crazy god would have a couple of words with me when he came back. How dared he. Yet, his tongue and the way he moved it when he spoke indicated a great control over the muscle, and probably strength. I wondered how would it feel to be sucked by that hot, wet mouth while… _No don't go there._

_Why are you even going there? You have John_, said an accusing voice inside my head. He was right, but I didn't like to be pointed out my errors. Not even by my own mind.

I took the note from John's hands and tossed it into the bin after making a ball with it.

"Crazy stupid god" I mumbled, almost pouting. I was kind of irritated by the path my thoughts had taken just a moment ago, but at the same time I was elated after the shower sex I just had, and that's not a mood you can wipe out so easily.

"Do you want to have breakfast? I think I saw a restaurant in the lounge" asked John with a pleased smile.

"I'd rather have it here, I don't really want to get dressed" I answered, stretching. "I'll have breakfast brought to us."

I sit on the bed and picked up the phone, my index finger hovering over the numbers. I dialled the reception's number and ordered two English breakfasts. I also asked at what time the restaurant stopped taking breakfast orders. Perhaps Loki hadn't eaten anything yet.

The receptionist was polite and efficient, but also gossipy, judging by some little comments she dropped in on our small conversation. I took the chance to get some first hand information about the latest news of New York.

"So, we have just arrived at the city, my partner and I, you know. But we don't want to do all the typical tourism, the monument seeing and all that. Too boring. We want something fresh, something we can gossip about back at home." I licked my lips, letting the apparently innocent comment sink in. "I am sure someone as well informed as yourself can give us some advise?"

"Well, you can visit famous' residences. Some of them are quite impressive. You know, those enormous mansions just like in the magazines. One would think that's too much space for a person or a couple, personally I've never understood that, but they are each bigger than the last."

She had swallowed the bait completely. But now she was rambling. I rolled my eyes as I heard her little soliloquy go on and on. I couldn't interrupt her, though, if I did she wouldn't be so forthcoming.

So I just offered a couple of comments at the right moments and let her finish. God, she talked so much and said so little.

"So a lot of celebrities have come to New York to live. Anyway, is there anyone you are specially interested about? Neil Patrick Harris or Nicole Kidman, for example?"

That was it.

"Actually, my mate was really excited when he discovered Tony Stark had a residence here in the city. He is such a fan, I have to try not to be jealous, but Stark is really good looking, isn't he? Do you know where his house is? And if he is currently here?" I prompted, trying to sound kind and innocent.

"I believe Tony lives normally in his mansion in Malibu, but the Stark Tower is famous, I though everywhere" she said, not even taking a second to breathe. "Well, now it's the Avengers Headquarters, you see. They changed the name after that invasion thing last year, the one with the aliens. I wasn't in New York at that time, thank God. It would have been frightening, wouldn't it? I think it would. Some friends of mine were and they all say it was. All the aliens were ugly creatures, they say. With big worm like machines and all the stuff. It was Iron Man, Tony Stark is him, the red and gold suit, you know, the one who got into that black hole kind of thing and saved us all. At least that's what the news said."

Ugh, infuriating woman. But one of the things she had just told me had picked my attention.

"That's really interesting, Miss…" I trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the information. Maybe a bad choice, given her ability to talk and talk at any chance.

"Finkel. Roxanne Finkel."

"Miss Finkel. But my boyfriend and I are in a little rush, since we are not staying for long. So, is Mr. Stark in New York? And where can I find the Stark Tower? I would really appreciate that, Roxanne."

Basic psychological manipulation. Using someone's first name has a powerful yet subtle effect on that person. And offering personal information gives the other person a sense of trust on them that makes them more open.

"Oh, Stark Tower is really easy to find. Just get out of the hotel, down the street, and get into the underground. Five stops later, get out. You should see it from there. There's no losing yourself. And I do think Tony is in New York. At least that's what the tabloids were saying last week. Recently he has been spending more time here than in Malibu. I think it has something to do with his status as part of the Avengers now."

She stopped for a moment, and I took the chance not to cut her off. There was one last thing I had to ask her.

"Thank you, Roxanne. We are going to visit it later today. One last thing, though, I do not want to keep you from your businesses. You said all the aliens from last year were, well, aliens? Wasn't someone with them, or leading them, someone who looked _human?_"

"Oh, don't tell me you are the conspiranoical type. Don't waste your time in such things, there's nothing there."

"Conspiranoical?" _That's not even a proper word._

"You know, those who see conspiracies everywhere. There are some who claim to have seen a human in green and gold, with a horned helmet and a weird stick. But we would surely know if someone was behind it, right? Stop looking for what it's not there."

"I'll take that into account. Thank you, Roxanne."

I hung up, not giving her the opportunity to start rambling again. I had what I wanted, there was no need to put up with such a pantomime anymore.

I turned my back and saw John picking at his breakfast, a full English breakfast in an elegant tray. It must had been brought while I was on the phone. In front of John's plate there was another identical one. I sat with my legs crossed and stared at him intently for a moment before taking the spoon of the plate before me.

John lifted his eyes to meet mine.

"So" he started, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Are we going to do tourism?"

"If you want to." I shrugged. "I have to go to the Stark Tower anyway, which is in one of the most touristic parts of the city. Probably I won't be needing you, so you can go and see some monuments. Is that alright?"

"But…?" He asked, completing the unspoken part.

"But I won't be able to go with you. There is mystery, John!"

"Fine. Whatever. I'll leave you and your damn cases alone with that madman who thinks he is a god. Have fun."

Great. Now he was angry.

"Don't be like that. I'll make it up for you. What about dinner?" His face started to soften slightly. "As soon as we have a free night we'll go somewhere nice. Cosy and intimate, just like you like it."

"And when are we going to have a free night, Sherlock? Not anytime soon, that's for sure. You won't be able to concentrate until you have solved this, and after may be in a lot of time. So tell me."

He was right. And that only made me angry too.

"Well, if you have so many complaints I'd better don't even try it. You surely can't settle with anything. Such an impossible man you are."

He scowled and glared.

"That's rich coming from the man who has a superiority complex so big no one is worthy enough for his company or to be deemed with his words."

John got up and grabbed his coat and wallet.

"Where are you going, John?" I asked, knowing the answer. Obviously outside.

"I don't know, Sherlock, _deduce_ it." He widened his eyes in a disdainful gesture, heading for the door. When he was in the door frame the spoke again. "Or better, don't. I don't want you to follow me."

He slammed the door shut and left me alone, sitting in the bed.

The silence fell in the room, and I cursed inwardly. Who did I curse, I didn't exactly know. Him, for being so stubborn, me, for never giving in, the situation, because that was what had triggered it, Loki, because he was the source of most of my problems right now.

But a small part of my brain was still functioning calmly as ever, and it was telling me him and I were the only ones to blame. It was neither Loki's fault nor the situation's, as it had only arisen something that was long below the surface.

I left the tray with my food untouched on the bed and wrapped myself around the blanket, feeling lazy enough as not to get dressed. I wasn't hungry. My eating habits were not fond of schedules.

I tried to get my mind off by doing some research about the Avengers and specially this Tony Stark.

The Internet was full of gossips and articles about him. Not so much about the superhero group, and mostly from a year ago, after the alien invasion. I ignored most of the gossips but I did pay attention to some of them. Every story has a little bit of truth behind. The thing is, some more than others.

Apparently he was a former gun inventor, whose nickname was The Merchant of Death. Until he was kidnapped and held captive by a group of terrorists who had his weapons. That must have made him reconsider his whole life. It's one of those moments that leave an indelible mark in your life. A point of inflection.

I knew how he had felt; I had felt it too. It had started with a _Goodbye, John_. But that was long passed and gone.

Now Anthony Stark was a billionaire philanthropist who was fully invested in clean energies and new ways of getting it. Like the arc reactor. I didn't find any schematics about it, but it seemed quite interesting.

Maybe I would ask Loki to get me some. When he could go back to Stark Tower, of course.

Suddenly, a silhouette started to appear from the thin air. At first I didn't notice as it was faint and fuzzy, but then it became clear it was there. I lifted my gaze in alarm, ready to defend myself or run if needed. Two seconds later, a brown haired man walked out of the green mist, a worried look on his face.

He was neither tall nor short, with no striking features. Brown hair, brown eyes. He was… ordinary. There was no other word for him. Yet he had materialised in front of my eyes. Not so ordinary.

"Loki?" I asked. The green smoke. It had to be him.

"Yes, I am Loki." His voice was different, too. Plainer. I opened my mouth to comment on something, but he hushed me. "Sherlock, we do not have time. They are here. Anytime now, they will come through that door."

I knew who _they_ was. The Avengers.

"What do they want? Do they know you are here?" Probably yes, but there was still a chance. Loki was staring at the floor.

"I don't know." He darted his eyes towards mine. They were fierce, determined, piercing, yet desperate and expectant. "_Help me. Please._"

That astonished me. Was that a plea? It definitely sounded like one. _You can analyse it after this urgent thing is over._ I tossed that thought aside and responded.

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

Yeah, cliffhanger for you. I'm mean, I know.


	12. Intimate, Scrutinising & Cocky

Here come the Avengers, then. Please review!

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**Chapter 12. Intimate, Scrutinising & Cocky**

The first thing I felt after Sherlock said that was relief. I had been rejected so many times in my life before, with not even a chance to explain myself. Who would help the Trickster, the second Prince, always living under the shade of the beloved Thor? After all, I lacked the abilities that are valued in Asgard. I wielded magic, I used my brain and words to get away with mischief instead of being a dim-witted warrior who stabbed everything and anything before even asking.

Then gratitude came. And happiness. I felt as he _cared_. It was a childish feeling, I know, but I couldn't help but to want to curl up in his arms and pretend nothing was ever or would ever be wrong.

I dwelled in that feeling for a moment before walking up to the laptop resting on the bed and touching it with the tips of my fingers.

I closed my eyes and transmitted all the magic the battery could endure to the device. That should make it harder for the Avengers to detect my magic here. I felt reluctant to let go such a big part of my magic, though, diminished as it already was.

"What are you doing with my computer?" Sherlock asked.

"Hush, I'm infusing magic into the battery so I can't be tracked down by it. Now be quiet."

I finished the spell and also casted a cloaking spell to hide the rest of the tendrils of magic that could be around me. Just to be sure. My magic didn't escape my control anymore, not since a couple of centuries ago, but I didn't want to take any chances. Emotions were not exactly helpful when you needed control.

I looked around the room and found two trays of breakfast, one untouched, on the bed. I looked at Sherlock, and he held my gaze. I was already planning all the outcomes and variables of the situation.

I couldn't help but notice that he was only covered by a sheet, hair ruffled and eyes sparkly.

"I'll need you to trust me. Do you think you can do it, Sherlock?"

"I already told you, didn't I? Just tell me what do I have to do and stop wasting time." He answered immediately.

"Sit on the bed, then. Eat something if you please. No, eat something. It will make it more natural. Let me do the talking. But you'll be the one actually _talking_."

He looked at me with a confused frown, but a couple of seconds later he opened his mouth on a perfect O of understanding. By then I had already walked up to him, on the bed.

"You mean like telepathy or some kind of mental communication." It wasn't a question. I nodded proudly; he had picked it up really quickly.

"It's kind of… intimate, though. I will be in your mind. I will be able to know everything you know."

"Oh by God's sake. Just do it already."

And with that he took my hand and placed it over his chest, for me to cast the spell. I could feel his rapid breathing and his heart beating in a steady yet frantic rhythm. His chest rose and fell with his breaths.

I inhaled deeply and searched for his mind. I did not need physical contact, but it made it easier for me. I soon found his mind and touched it lightly, resting the reaction. Well, _touched_. You know what I mean.

"Now I'm going to enter your mind, so please don't put up any resistance. It will make it more difficult." I talked sweetly, quietly, with the aim of relaxing the agitated human before me.

I only needed a temporary communication channel, so I resisted the urge of spying. It would only waste our time, and it was short enough. I barely entered the most superficial layers of his conscience, the ones in charge of the external stimulus. I created the bridge that would allow me to talk into his mind and retreated.

"Now, I'll talk to you. Please, don't be scared."

_Sherlock, can you hear me? _

He was silent for a moment, and then looked at me and frowned.

"I can hear you. But can't you hear me as well?"

"No, I can't, that's not—"

I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I swallowed hard and threw a glance at Sherlock, who answered with a reassuring look.

I opened the door and encountered the full united front of the Avengers. They weren't wearing their gear but that didn't make them less intimidating.

"Can I help you?" I asked coldly, raising and eyebrow. My whole body language was screaming indifference and annoyance.

"Er, yes, I was, we were wondering if we could come in?" Steve asked. Well, that was not the attitude of a leader. He definitely had a lot to learn yet.

"And you are?"

"I don't believe you don't know me. The rest of them, maybe, but me? Come on, man, I'm Tony Stark!" It took a real effort to look at him without showing any emotion. Then I let out an _oh_ of realisation.

"I know you. You are that playboy who makes weapons. Does this mean you are that superhero group, the one who destroyed New York last year?" I pondered for a moment. "How were you called? I can't quite remember."

_Sherlock, ask me to let them in._

"James, darling, let them in. And it's Avengers."

I rolled my eyes at the last part. And James? I didn't like that name. It was of no matter, though. I stepped aside to let them through the door.

_I am sorry for the lack of space, we weren't expecting visitors._

"We weren't expecting visitors, sorry there is no room." Sherlock smiled apologetically. He was good, so out of his usual self. No one would suspect he wasn't like this.

_So, what does bring you here?_

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Sherlock repeated.

"Well, there actually is. We are looking for someone, someone we think is a criminal." Captain America explained.

"We are no criminals, I can assure you that. Not that I'd tell you if I were, but you get the point." I said with a smirk. Teasing Steve had always amused me.

_Don't act like yourself. They might figure out who you are if you keep behaving like Loki._

_Be James. _

I sighed inwardly and saw Natasha's eyes fixed on me. I refrained from the impulse to narrow my eyes and shrank slightly, giving her the impression of intimidation. I hated it.

_Ask them about the appearance of the_ _criminal_.

"Could you describe to us what did this criminal you are looking for looked like? Maybe we have seen him or her without knowing what he really was."

"Yeah, I think I have a photo here. Just let me check…" Stark prompted, searching his pockets for the image.

"Are you sure you brought it?" Agent Barton asked, half exasperated and half worried. "It wouldn't be the first time you—"

"Here! Here, see? I did brought it." Stark interrupted, holding up a wrinkled photo.

"Give me that" said Hawkeye, snatching the image out of his hand. He walked up to Sherlock, ignoring me blatantly, and showed it to him.

A part of me wanted to be noticed, as it did most of times. But other part, the one in charge of mischief and cold thinking, knew anonymity was the best I could have.

That part won pretty much every fight ever.

_Show me the picture. _

"James, come and see the picture. Don't be so grumpy." Sherlock was sure having his fun with all this.

I rolled my eyes at him and came closer. He held out the picture and I could see it for the first time.

I knew the photo. I was the one who took it. It was folded in half, covering the part where Stark would be. We had gone out, a sunny day of summer. I didn't like the summer, so Stark had to practically drag me out of bed and Tower. But once I was outside it had been great. A whole day with Tony Stark all for myself.

We had stopped by this pond to buy ice cream, and I took the photo of both of us while we queued.

I didn't know he had kept it.

"I don't recognise the man on the image" I lied. "Do you, love?"

I looked at Sherlock penetratingly, daring him to object. He didn't. I refrained from the urge to smirk.

"Anything you can tell us would help." Captain America was beside me the next moment. Shit, I hadn't noticed him. That scared me a little. He was looking hopefully at Sherlock, as if he had all the answers to the universe.

Which maybe he had, actually. Or at least he could deduce them.

_Obviously, say you don't know the man on the photo. _

"I'm afraid I haven't seen this man in my life. Sorry. I hope you can catch him soon."

"So, any other questions or we can all go on with our lives? My boyfriend and I were about to do, you know, _adult stuff_. I'll save you the gory details." I asked. Maybe a sexual comment would scare them off. At least it would shy Steve away, that's for sure.

I saw Natasha narrow her eyes suspiciously. Damn, I felt like she could stare into my soul and manage not to get drowned by it and the darkness. It worried me, what she could do.

"Are you two… a couple?" Steve asked slowly.

"Yes we are. Do you have any problem with that?" I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, ready to judge him with my gaze.

"No, not at all, I mean, it's great that you've found someone. Er, uh, congratulations. I guess" he spluttered awkwardly.

I felt Natasha's eyes locked on my head as she leant over and whispered something on Thor's ear, whose eyes immediately widened. I didn't like that one bit. I'd better get rid of them sooner rather than later.

"You don't look gay" Stark pointed out. I looked at him, tilting my head to one side.

"Neither do you. And you've been seen in the tabloids with men" I snapped back. _How does someone look gay, anyway?_

"Fair enough" he admitted, his jaw strained. Then he quickly changed the subject. "Hey, Bruce, how's the scan going, man?"

"Nearly finished. Do you mind if I go around for a little bit?" he asked Sherlock, again ignoring me. Was it on purpose?

_Say yes._

"Of course you can, come and wander."

Bruce smiled kindly and started to pace the room with that device. It beeped and threw a dim green light.

_Ask what does the machine do._

"What does that exactly do? It's safe, right?" Sherlock looked actually concerned. As if he didn't do experiments way more dangerous than any radiation the device could give on a regular basis.

"It's a timey wimey detector. It does ding when there's stuff" Clint answered. Sherlock laughed, but Bruce didn't look amused. I didn't get the joke.

"Actually, it's a specific wavelength energy fluctuation detector. It detects, uh, a kind of energy that—" he started explaining.

"Magic. It detects magic" Stark interrupted again.

"Magic. Right. Whatever, I shouldn't expect much from a bunch of people who believe themselves heroes" I mocked.

No one had the chance to answer that, as Banner had just finished running the scan.

"I'm done, guys. It's clean. No… energy… here."

"There's obviously no magic here. Do we look like someone who wastes his time with magic tricks?" I asked.

"I guess not" answered Thor, still oblivious to banalities such as rhetorical questions and sarcasm.

_Tell them to leave._

"Is there anything more we could do? We really need to rest after the long trip by plane." Sherlock made a gesture towards the door.

"We won't be resting, my dear" I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply.

_Oh by the Nine. At least it'll be worth it._

Some moments later, I reluctantly released a bewildered Sherlock and returned to the Avengers standing in the door frame.

"Still here? Come on, hurry up."

One by one they exited the room. The last two were Natasha and Thor. The former gave me a scrutinising look and the later a look full of compassion and sadness.

_Damn_.

I didn't let my mask falter at the glances of any of them and instead gave them a mocking and cocky grin that would surely make them hurry in exiting the room. It worked, I guess, as they were out mere seconds later.

Once the door was closed behind them I turned my back and cursed.

Damn, damn, damn, damn.

They had recognised me. Natasha had, that's for sure, and she had told Thor. No one would recognise me as well as Thor. Not even Stark.

"They don't know who you are." I lifted my gaze to find a sheet-wrapped Sherlock staring at me.

"She has. Romanoff, the redhead. And she has told Thor about it, to confirm it. They _know_, Sherlock."

"She hasn't. For being the God of Trickery you don't really get brain games. She was bluffing. Testing you, and me, by the way."

"What makes you so sure?"

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow, annoyed that he had to explain it. He didn't, but I wanted to know the details.

"First she was studying us, looking for any sign of nervousness or fake. She didn't, because I knew what she was looking for; I also use that technique. Anyway, lying and pretending come to you as natural as sass, so there was no problem with you either." He sighed. "After the she has made sure that we were looking when she has whispered something on Thor's ear. I guess Thor, being your stepbrother, and having grown up together, is the closest to you and the one who could recognise you easier. It's logical she chose him to play that trick. She probably has asked him to stay a couple of moments more than strictly necessary to study our reactions better. I was looking at you and nothing of what you've done were indicators of your being Loki instead of Jim."

I opened my mouth but closed again without saying a thing. It… made sense. It made sense in a true kind of way, not in an it-must-be-true-because-there's-no-other-choice kind of way.

I sat on the bed, relief and tiredness washing over me. All the exhaustion from the loss of magic was taking over me all of a sudden. My eyelids were heavy and I found myself not being able to keep them open.

"So… am I your boyfriend, it seems?" I heard Sherlock ask, and I heard more than see the smile.

"You have your little entertainment, don't you now?" I replied and yawned. "So, Jim?"

"Oh, just someone I… used to know. Maybe I'll tell you about him. If you behave."

I knew there was something more to it, but I was too close to unconsciousness to care.

"I'm the God of Mischief. I misbehave" I fumbled, before I fell into the dark.


	13. The One Who Knows Him Best

This chapter is quite long comparing, but I couldn't fit everything otherwise. You'll thank me, though. Trust me. Review, please :)

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**Chapter 13. The One Who Knows Him Best**

He hadn't said anything about the kiss. Neither had I. But now that he was safely asleep I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was uncalled for. I think. But I had liked it. Kind of. I shouldn't, right? I definitely shouldn't have liked it. John would probably be mad. Oh, right. He was already mad. He would be furious. What it's the way of action to calm your boyfriend after you've been kissed by a Norse God in disguise? It didn't seem like any help book I'd ever seen. But it hadn't been my fault, either. What was I supposed to do? Pull him back? It would have ruined it all.

_Yes, keep telling yourself that, maybe you'll believe it._

_Oh, shut up._

I stared at the sleeping god by my side. I couldn't believe he had actually kissed me. It was too all of a sudden for me to register it properly, but I had picked the sensations quite well. It had been a deep yet rushed kiss; Loki obviously hadn't planned it. It had been spontaneous. That meant it was something coming from the very core of him, something real. His lips were soft and cold, but not enough to make me want to pull away because of it.

His tongue had entered my mouth a little bit; he had stopped the kiss before he could go any deeper. Maybe when he had realised what he was doing. But being Loki, that was not likely. Chances were he didn't want to continue tempting himself.

I didn't want to either. I didn't know how, but Loki had really got under my skin. And most of the time on my nerves too. I mean, he is a high and mighty moron who likes to flirt and amuse himself.

I'm sure he hated being bored as much as I did.

I definitely wasn't going to tell John about this. It had meant nothing and it would only make him upset. I went to the closet and rummaged for something to wear. I found a simple black suit and the purple shirt I liked most and started to dress myself, eyeing Loki cautiously.

Loki, being Loki, God of Mischief, could easily pretend to be asleep to watch me get dressed. He had done things of the sort before.

I was about to exit the room when I remembered the note Loki had left. I decided to write one too, in case he woke up. I wasn't going to be out for long, but better safe than sorry.

_Loki, _

_I'll be back soon. So soon you won't probably read this. _

_SH_

It was way less obscene than his, but I refused to get to his level. I would only be doing what he wanted.

This second attempt didn't make it to get me out of the room either. I noticed in the mirror the massive hickey I had in my neck. Quite visible, also. John had done it this morning, probably. I felt a little embarrassed but sceptical too. John was being territorial? That was not like him.

I finally exited the hotel room and went down to the lounge, where people were rushing in and out. Too noisy.

I decided to go for a walk, as did John every time he needed to calm down. I needed to find him; he maybe was in danger.

After all, if the Avengers had been able to find us in the hotel after just a day, maybe they knew where John was at the moment. And maybe they thought they could give him a try if they hadn't believed us.

I needed to find him before they did.

John, as nice and firm as he seemed, lacked of any abilities to deceive whatsoever. He could lie to most people, and they would believe him, but he couldn't pretend in such a big scale. He couldn't make the redhead believe he didn't know Loki.

Hell, he didn't even know what he had to say.

Stupid and proud John. Not taking his mobile phone with him so I can't call him. Or track him. Anyway if he wanted me not to follow him, he just needed to ask. He shouldn't go out alone without any means to communicate.

That gave me an idea. It was the logical course of action, but oddly I hadn't thought about it before. I obviously had to deduce where he had gone. That's what he had said, at least. _Don't try to deduce where I'm going._

Sorry, John, your hurt feelings can wait.

It must be a place without all the noise and the confusion of the city. Somewhere where he could be at peace, sulking alone. He was such a kid sometimes.

Where could he be then? There weren't many possible places. Somewhere quiet… I looked around me. Streets surrounded me. Nothing good. I knew we were close to Central Park, and that there were a lot of places where he could be undisturbed there. Yet I doubted John was hiding somewhere between the trees. He was a soldier; he was alert if he couldn't see around him. That included forests and wannabe forests.

No, it had to be someplace where he had a clear sight of everything. Quiet, calm and in the open. I looked up. People never look up. Not even in New York, home of the skyscrapers.

A roof.

_Oh, how ironic_. John had taken the habit of going to the roof to think and to get away from the world. No one hardly ever goes to the roof. Why should they? There's nothing that can interest those grey boring minds in a roof. Not even the sight.

I got back in the hotel. That was the only building whose roof John had access to. And if he could, I could.

I got into the lift and chose the highest floor. The hotel didn't have that many floors, but nevertheless it was higher than the average in England.

The last floor wasn't very impressive. It would mostly be used as storage. There were no rooms, just a massive attic full of cleaning material and cardboard boxes. On the other side of the room, in the very corner, there was a window, a skylight. It was big enough to let a person go through. And it was open.

I climbed onto the chair that was pulled under and looked outside.

There he was. John.

He had his back to me. He was sat on the floor. I got out and carefully approached him, but not too much. He was still mad, after all.

I cleared my throat loudly.

"Erh, hi, John."

He turned quickly and glared at me, before turning his back to me again.

"I told you not to follow me."

"Actually, I didn't _follow_ you" I answered.

"Sherlock, you know what I mean. What are you doing here?" He was still not facing me.

"The Avengers have just come. I was worried about you."

I knelt behind him. He grumbled but didn't complain. Well, that was good.

"I thought they might go after you too."

"What you were really worried about is that I might spoil whatever lie you and that madman have told them" He accused. I hugged him from behind.

"You are an idiot, you know that?" I whispered in his ear. "I was worried about _you_."

"I'm still angry" He pouted.

"Of course you are."

Memories of the kiss sprung to my mind, making me feel guilty. What for, though? I locked that feeling in a box and tossed it in the dungeons of my mind palace.

Better.

"But we have to go back. This changes everything."

I started to kiss his ear, nibbling it lightly.

"Is that so?" He murmured, distracted. John tilted his head so he would give me better access to his neck. I purred and caressed the bare skin with the tip of my fingers, without letting the ear go.

I turned his head so I could kiss him in the mouth. I darted my tongue inside, twisting it with his. My fingers were entangled in his hair before I knew it, and his strong hands were behind my neck, holding me close.

John turned his whole body so he was facing me. I broke our kiss and admired the view for a moment. A grin spread over my face and John mirrored the gesture.

Without stopping smiling, I kissed him and bit him again and again, creating a path of love bites down his collarbone. The little noises he made were most encouraging.

But of course, something —or rather someone— had to spoil the moment.

My phone started ringing annoyingly. What a moment did it chose to come to life. I sighed and pulled out the infernal device, ready to mute it and continue. Probably it was just Lestrade, asking me for help with some case. Some too easy case to be of any use. But it wasn't him. It wasn't anyone I could recognise.

I sit up, now concerned, while the phone kept ringing. What if it was…? It couldn't be. He hadn't contacted me since St. Bartholomew. It was as if he were dead.

Just that he wasn't. I knew that.

"Sherlock, are you going to take it or not?"

I didn't respond; I was too centred on my concerns. Then John snatched the mobile from my hands and picked it up. I could only stare at him in disbelief.

"Hello?" He asked. His face immediate fell in irritation. Not Moriarty, then. Probably Loki. "What do you want, Loki?"

He snorted, exasperated, and passed me the telephone.

"So you are awake. I'm impressed" I observed.

"I am, indeed. I recovered the magic I had stored in your computer. I'm afraid it's fried, though." He said, as if it didn't matter.

"It's _what_?" I screamed. "You'd better be talking about your magic and not my laptop."

"Of course I'm talking about your computer. Magic cannot be fried, don't be stupid. That's just ridiculous." Loki laughed, amused by the idea.

"You. Fix it."

"Don't worry, darling. I will. Isn't it adorable when you get so moody? I just love it."

"Loki, get to the point. Why have you called?"

"Because I missed you, of course."

"Of course." I repeated. _Of course_. That was hilarious. "Couldn't you wait? Not even a little?"

"I don't think I could've survived." He answered, his voiced like a child's.

"Goodbye, Loki." I was going to hang up, but I heard him through the phone.

"Sherlock, wait!" He took a deep breath. "Alright. Do you think… Stark… Tony… Will do something if I go to the Tower? If he is alone?" He sounded hopeful, and I didn't want to crash that, but I didn't want him to get hurt either.

"You are the one who knows him best. And while he did seem less _committed_ to the criminal part if our conversation, he paid great attention to whether we knew you or not." I let that sink in for a couple of seconds. "Maybe I'm wrong, you know. Maybe you should—"

"Thank you, Sherlock. I'll see you later." He interrupted, and hanged up.

"—wait before you see him."

I sighed and put the phone back in my pocket.

"I guess that ruined the mood?" I asked apologetically.

"Yes it did." John was angry. _Again_. Oh, by God's sake.

"But we can still—" I started, leaning over him.

"No we can't. You haven't even known Loki for that long and I'm already being replaced. And you think I'm going to be all cheerful and at your disposal? I don't think so." He pulled back and got up, getting away from me.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so jealous and dependant on me you wouldn't be so paranoid." I threw back. "I don't ask you to be cheerful and at my disposal, I ask you to help me with a case."

"Oh, so you now only want me to put up with you in your damn cases. Wonderful." John crossed his arms and stood proudly in his spot.

"That's the only thing you seem to like, John. Lately you've been distracted when you are with me. Bored, even." I took a step in his direction, but he didn't walk back. A good sign.

"I am not bored. I'm just busy. I have a lot of things to take care of since you don't."

"Don't even try to deny that. I know boredom when I see it. And I can take care of everything myself, _thank you_."

"Yes, because keeping heads in the fridge is something a responsible and sensible person would do. _Obviously_." He was now with his arms to his sides, piercing me with his gaze.

"You should know by now that my methods are not sensible nor I am a responsible person." I narrowed my eyes, as I was getting closer and closer to him.

"Yes, because you are just a prick who doesn't even know the Solar System." He accused.

"You're an idiot."

Suddenly, I was kissing him, and he was kissing me back, roughly, fiercely. I bit his lip and he grumbled, digging his fingernails in my neck. John ran his fingers through my scalp and pulled at my hair, making me gasp sharply.

I separated our lips for a moment and quickly started to undress him, pulling at the edge of his jumper. He raised his arms to allow me to put it off, and I tossed it to the ground next to us. Then I started with the shirt, struggling with the buttons for a moment.

John growled in exasperation and bit my earlobe, demanding my attentions. I held back a moan and went back to kissing him, deeply, hurriedly.

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't careful. It was wild, it was rough, it was fire. Anger was brimming under the surface, anger we both needed to get out somehow. The yelling and arguing didn't work.

I finished undressing him and John had almost got rid of my clothes too.

"I want…" He started to mutter in my ear. "I want the crop."

I grinned mischievously.

"It's in the hotel room. Not sure if there's someone there." Notice the someone instead of Loki. John wouldn't be happy to hear that name.

"I don't care."

I placed a hand behind his neck and pulled him backwards, towards the skylight. I didn't stop kissing those lips for a moment until he had to get down the window.

Once I was inside too, he took me by the arm and pressed his lips against mine. There was a mirror in the room and I saw the hickey he had made in my neck barely hours ago. I moved to the side to bit a trail down his neck and collarbone, until I reached his nipple. I tugged and teased it as we walked down the corridor and into the lift.

Fortunately no one saw us as we reached the room. When we were inside, I pined John against the wall.

"I'll be right back."

I turned and searched the suitcase. There it was. The riding crop. Oh, so many fantasies and experiments it had brought.

Loki wasn't around, which meant he had gone to the Stark Tower to see Tony. It should have bothered me, but I was pretty busy at the moment as to even register it.

John was looking at me expectantly, pupils dilated with lust and the promise of sex. I raised the crop and brushed it over his face. He closed his eyes. He was hard, and so was I. There was no time or need for preliminaries then.

I brought the crop to his body, once, twice thrice. John arched with each blow, whining and writhing. The crop left red lines in his chest and belly.

I slammed him against the wall, holding him up as I slid a digit into his tight ass. He gasped and moved nervously, trying to get the most he could of the finger inside him. I slid another and rapidly moved it in and out. He moaned and growled and gasped.

"The noises you make are delightful, John. Don't stop. Don't ever stop." I muttered into his ear, before biting and nibbling it.

A third finger followed and John pushed himself up and down, deep to my knuckles. I moved my fingers inside, and I was wondered by the effect I had in him.

After he was prepared, I lifted him a little bit and slid my cock between his legs, pushing mercilessly.

I was angry. He was angry.

He cried out when I thrusted and he placed his hands in my back for support. John dug his nails along my skin, surely leaving marks. I kissed him again and bit his lip harshly as I pushed again deeply.

John wasn't minding the roughness and neither was I. I _needed_ it that way. I don't think I could have stood it gentle and kind. This was best now. This was perfect. Wild, hard, fast. It was frenetic and amazing.

I freed a hand and brushed it with his hair, loving the sensation of his fair hair entangling with my fingers. Then I moved it down and started to masturbate him with it, rubbing circles over the head of his cock.

I pulled and bit his earlobe, his neck, his jaw. I drank in his scent, his view. Sandalwood and soap and sweat and sex. What an amazing combination.

John climaxed beneath me with a scream calling my name, before going limp in my arms. I was near now, I felt that sensation building up inside me. I quickened the rhythm and after some thrusts I also climaxed, burying my face in the space between John's shoulder and his neck to muffle the sound.

We were both panting. We stayed like that for what felt like a long time. I finally pulled out of him and lifted my eyes to meet his. John's gaze was fixed in mine.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I shouldn't be jealous. I know nothing could happen between Loki and you. I trust you."

A sudden stab of guilt hit me, but I remained silent. I didn't want to ruin it again. John took my silence as acceptance and smiled.

"We should take a shower. I'm sticky."

I laughed at that and smiled too. I was not going to be brooding for what Loki had done.

"Me too. Let's go."

I let him guide me into the shower, where probably more sex awaited.


	14. Supremacy, Power & Dominance

Guys, I'm in USA at the moment, and I will be for the next three weeks so I may not be able to update. I will try, though!

Thanks for reading, and please review :)

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**Chapter 14. Supremacy, Power & Dominance**

I had a chance. A slim one, and it was probably desperate, but I couldn't let go. After seeing Stark in the hotel room, I needed to talk to him. As Loki, not as some poor and dull Midgardian called Jim. And being Loki included manipulation and lies.

I had to call Sherlock, though, just to be sure. I still had a rational part who knew this was not a smart idea.

I chose to ignore it.

It had probably been that part's idea to phone Sherlock. Hoping he would forbid me going to see him. It was one of the most reckless actions I had done in a long time. It was risky, but I had to do it. I had to make sure Stark was where I wanted him to be. Sherlock hadn't said anything. That was _encouragement_.

I dressed with Asgardian clothes, for Stark to think I wasn't hiding somewhere in the planet but in some other realm. I didn't use the armour, though. I only wanted to talk with him. What would I say? I don't know. Something. Everything. Anything.

Words would come to me once I was in his presence. As always. Most things needed to be planned to the detail. Not this kind. You could never anticipate how it would work out, how would it end. No, with this kind of thing I needed to improvise.

Before I left I repaired Sherlock's computer. It was my fault it was broken, after all. _Maybe_ I had miscalculated the amount of magic it could contain without overloading. Or maybe I knew it would burn but simply didn't care. I guess we'll never know, right?

This time, however, I used just what was necessary. I wanted to fix it, not fry it again. Can you fry something twice? I whispered a quick spell and checked the damage was repaired. I trusted my abilities completely, but I had to.

I had to calm down before going anywhere.

The spell had _of course_ worked. The computer was back and it functioned perfectly.

I couldn't delay my departure anymore, so I gripped my tie pin and made myself invisible. I also put a veil on my magic, just in case. If I was going for inconspicuous I'd better do it right. Then I teleported into Stark Tower.

Jarvis didn't notice my presence, or at least didn't acknowledge it. That was a good sign. Stark had it programmed to alert out loud any intrusion.

My status hadn't changed, then.

I looked around me. I was in the lounge, which was deserted. I searched the entire floor, but no one was there.

Reluctantly I moved to the lift, but I didn't take it. That would most definitely alert Stark or anyone of my presence. I teleported to Stark's personal floor.

His bedroom and the workshop were the two most likely places for him to be. But if he were in the workshop there would be music blaring through the speakers down there, reaching even some of the higher floors. The bedroom was, then.

_But maybe he isn't in the Tower at all._

Actually I had thought about it, as none of the Avengers was in the lounge. But just before calling Sherlock I had checked and he was. He couldn't have just gone out again, right?

I wandered across the floor, looking for Stark. I found him in his bedroom, just where I thought he would be.

He was sat by the window, just staring out of it. He had a glass of whiskey in his hands, and a bottle of the same liquid was in the table, only half full.

_Oh, so soon to be drinking, Tony. I thought I had corrected that._

He wasn't facing me nor with his back to me. I could appreciate the game of shadows his cheekbones and lips played. I could see his Adam's apple moving up and down when he swallowed. I could hear him sighing. He thought he was alone, that's why he allowed himself to sigh.

I quietly murmured the spell to make me visible again and waited. I didn't say anything, just waited there. Stark finally got up to get another bottle of alcohol and saw me.

"Loki" he breathed.

"Indeed" I answered.

We weren't moving at all. We were frozen. Stark slowly put the empty bottle and glass on the table and approached me.

"How… You… Why are you here, Loki?"

Alright, that question hurt me a little.

"I… needed to come. I wanted to see you. I just…" I trailed off, letting him fill in the silence.

"Where were you? We were worried about you, you know. Running off like that, without explanation."

I took a step back, struck by his words.

"You didn't need an explanation. It was pretty clear you didn't want me anymore."

"How can you say that? I've been looking for you for days. I've used all the resources to find you" he said, without closing the gap between us.

"I…" I stopped and turned, closing my eyes. "I don't even know why I have come. I shouldn't have. This is ridiculous."

I started to walk towards the door, but Stark stopped me.

"Loki" He made a pause. "Please. Stay. Talk to me."

I looked at him in the eye. Yes, there it was. Words were rushing into my head, ready to come out of my mouth. Already scheming, already plotting, already manipulating. I knew exactly what to say to create the reaction I wanted, _any reaction I wanted. _

"Why don't _you_ talk to me? Why don't you tell me what happened before I left, why you all became so cold and distant at once?"

I watched as something crumbled in his eyes.

"Loki, there wasn't anything…" He started.

"Oh, don't you dare say that to me. I know a lie when I hear one. I knew exactly what happened. It was obvious your whole demeanour was different. So don't you dare say it was nothing." Without noticing, I had closed the distance between us, and I was now towering over him. I backed off a little. "Don't you dare" I repeated, this time softer.

Stark sighed, looking down.

"Loki, look. There was this woman, she told us… something about you. About who you are. All the blue stuff, right?" He chuckled, trying to lighten the tension.

That part I had already assumed. And the woman was Amora. I knew that for sure.

Still, being underestimated always comes in handy.

"Oh, my true heritage." I tried to sound upset, even if I had come to terms with that matter. "Jotünn. Who told you? I doubt Thor…" I trailed off, encouraging him to fill in the blanks again.

I was manipulating him, even without noticing. Not even wanting to. Right, that last part wasn't true. Another lie. My mistake.

"No, it wasn't Blonde Big Guy. She was Asgardian, though. Amora, I think it was her name. God, you guys really have weird names. Is it a fetish or something?"

"Tony" I warned.

"I know. It's just… It was a lot of crap about you, and I guess I doubted. There are plenty of centuries of your life I know nothing about!" He paused for a moment. "Look, I know this wasn't easy, but I don't think it was reason enough as to abandon us all. It wasn't a path of roses for us either."

"It wasn't easy for you? It wasn't easy, you say? Try and be on your own in a realm you know nothing about, no magic, no contacts. Try, and tell me it was easy." Well, that wasn't _technically_ lying. Compared to the amount of magic I normally have that was nothing. And I did have contacts, just decided not to call them. So it's the same as if I didn't have any.

"Loki…"

"No Tony. Don't."

"I'm sorry, okay? I should have trusted you. I shouldn't have believed her."

He looked rather awkward. Apologising wasn't in his everyday schedule. Now I had him exactly where I wanted him. He just needed a last little push. I looked Stark in the eye.

"I love you." I whispered. Somehow it left a bitter taste on my mouth, but I didn't care.

"I love you too." He answered.

He pulled me to him and kissed me. My initial plan hadn't included this, but I had expected it. It would be a bonus.

I returned the kiss, entwining our tongues and pulling him by the shirt closer to me. Stark slid his hand down my back and rested it just where my ass started. I growled in complaint and he smiled and placed it over my ass, squeezing it softly.

I kissed him fiercely, making up for the lost time and all the frustration and anger. I drank his scent and lost myself in it. Not for long, though, as Stark bit my lower lip. I moaned and entangled my fingers in his hair, clean and grease free for once.

I had missed this. _My body_ had missed this. It reacted to Stark's touch in ways I wasn't even aware of.

I started unfastening the belt of his trousers and unbuttoning his shirt. I brushed my fingers against his flat stomach, his abs, his chest. I got rid of all his clothes first and then Stark helped me remove my own.

"Bed" I murmured. The impressive bed in Stark's bedroom was soaked in his scent and it brought delicious memories.

"Bed" He agreed, and picked me up as if I were made of air. I passed my arms behind his neck for support and entangled my ankles.

Stark laid me down on the soft mattress and started kissing my jawline and neck, nibbling and biting and sucking while his hands travelled down my chest and belly, sending chills down my spine.

I inhaled sharply as Stark dug his teeth in my skin and I scratched his back.

I growled and got on my elbows, gaining a confused look from Stark. I pushed him by his chest and got up. Still with the palm of my hand wide open over his arc reactor, I turned and pushed him on the bed again. Blue light poured from between my fingers. This time the look he threw me was playful and sly.

I got on my knees on the bed and purred on his ear, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin as a response. That made my smile pleasantly.

I got down and passed a finger along his hard length. I blew on the tip and he shuddered. I brushed the head with my tongue and made slow circles before swallowing it all.

Stark gasped and arched his back as I sucked mercilessly. One of his hands went to my head to encourage me up and down.

Stark's moans and growls augmented until he was on the edge of climax. I didn't let him finish, though. Just before he could cum, I pulled back and stared at him.

"Loki, Loki, continue, love" He whined.

"But why, my love? After all the pain you've caused me you don't deserve the pleasure of cumming." I was being selfish and cruel, but then, that's kind of my thing. I wanted revenge, and sex is what Stark loved most.

"You also hurt me, and I am not punishing you." He continued complaining.

"Yes you are, my love. Yes you are. With those eyes and pleading face, claiming innocence and naivety" I answered. I got closer to him once again. "_I_ want to cum, though. Such situations you put me in."

I took his hand and guided it to my ass, searching with a finger my hole.

Stark pressed and started moving the finger in and out, slow at first but quickly fastening the pace. A second finger followed and I gasped.

Too long. It had been too long without this.

When three digits were inside me, moans were escaping my lips and I found myself leaning on Stark's chest for support.

"Stark… I'm ready" I murmured in a husky voice. He understood me, though, as he got the bottle of lubricant from the nightstand.

"Turn your back" He ordered.

"I don't want to. Take me, Stark. I want to see your face while you do so."

A mischievous grim spread on his face and I returned the gesture.

Sex between Stark and I was always a battle. A battle for supremacy, for power, for dominance. Always wanting to overpower the other, make him bend under our wishes and desires. Sometimes I won, sometimes he did. Today I was too resentful and hurt as to let him win.

I liked it as a battle, though. I really love a good challenge. The satisfaction once you've achieved what you wanted, once you see Stark writhing and shaking as he climaxes. Because of _me_.

He positioned himself between my legs, and slid his cock inside me, deep. He stilled and I shifted to accommodate it, to get used to it. Well, not so much get used to it but welcome it back.

Stark slid his cock almost completely to then bury himself in me again, fast and hard. I hissed and he chuckled.

"Are you enjoying your punishment, my love?" He asked seductively. I growled as a response. Stark laughed again.

The man repeated the process, this time a little bit more carefully. And again and again, Tony Stark pounded into me as I saw his expression morph and become one of pure pleasure.

In one of the thrusts, he hit my prostate and I screamed. Stark angled again for that spot until I was over the edge. He would probably want to take revenge for interrupting his climax before, so I hurried and looked for that last push I needed.

One last thrust was my undone. I climaxed and melted like wax, falling limp on top of him. He continued for a bit more until he also orgasmed.

We stayed like that for a long time, I think. I wasn't really paying attention, sue me.

"Will you come back?" Stark's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"I do not know" I answered. It was the true. Most of it, at least. I could hardly ever speak the complete truth. And a part of me didn't want to go back.

"Do you have somewhere to stay? Are you eating well?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Last time I checked, that was none of your business, _mum_."

"Loki."

"Will you come after me? Or the Avengers?" I asked. Now or never, he would never be so vulnerable and open again.

He was silent for a long time.

"Probably" He breathed at last.

I moved to get up and get dressed.

"I have to go, Stark."

"Do you have or do you want to?"

"Both." That now, wasn't a lie. A little miracle.

"Loki." He called.

I conjured my clothes and turned.

"I may or may not have come here today. Your choice, Stark." I said.

Then I teleported out of the building.


	15. The One Who Has An Idiotic Soldier For A

**Chapter 15. The One Who Has An Idiotic Soldier For A Boyfriend.**

The shower had, indeed, meant more sex. I was exhausted now, but with that delightful kind of post sex exhaustion.

"John. We left our clothes in the roof" I said. He looked at me, taking a moment to remember. Then he grumbled.

"You are right. Damn. Maybe we should go get them back? Before someone sees them."

"That would be quite awkward, indeed" I answered.

"I'll go get them, you wait here" John offered.

"Oh Hell no. You are not going alone. What if the Avengers get to you? No way, your incapable of lying."

He didn't seem bothered by the comment, though.

"Then get dressed and let's go." It was the only this he replied.

I quickly got dressed _again_ and added a blue scarf and coat to the outfit. It covered the hickey. As I put on the clothes, John eyed me greedily.

"We just had sex, twice. You can't possibly want more" I observed.

"While I would really love to argue with you on whether or not I can want you, I would also really appreciate if you hurried."

"You hurt my feelings, doctor Watson." I tried to sound falsely offended.

"I'm sure I don't. Now come on."

"Exasperating person you are" I mocked.

"That's rich coming from you, Sherlock" He replied, kissing me chastely in the lips.

We got back to the roof and picked up our clothes. None of us commented the last time I had been on a roof. What for? Ruin the mood? I scanned the surroundings for any sign of the presence of the Avengers or any person, but it was clear. Fortunately we didn't find anyone in our way either. The less people who saw us the better.

Once back in the room I took my computer and turned it on. It worked. At least Loki had fixed it before leaving. I looked at the clock. An hour and a half since he called. Probably an hour and something since he left. It was not enough time as to worry about it yet.

"What are you thinking about?" John inquired.

I was about to say Loki when I realised I was going to say Loki. Then I thought again. John would be bothered if I said that, and we had just made up, I didn't want to screw it so soon again. But I didn't want to lie to him either. What would happen if I couldn't even be honest with my boyfriend?

"About Loki" I started. He shifted lightly, barely noticeably. "About how long has he been out with Tony Stark and if I should worry or not yet." I hoped the _with Tony Stark_ part would placate him, but I wasn't sure.

"I see." It was the only thing he answered. I rolled my eyes, fully aware that he couldn't see me.

I turned my attention back to the computer screen. I opened internet and searched Avengers. Thousands of entries. I clicked the photo search and chose one of the group images.

"So John, first you need a little background. These are the Avengers." I made a gesture with my hand towards the image. "This is Thor. He is also a Norse God, like Loki. He is the God of Thunder and future king of Asgard. Loki told me some of our mythology is actually true, so that's where I've got most of my information about him—"

"Wait, Loki said the mythology is _true_? Like, all the myths? Loki's too?" John asked, a little too enthusiastic. I glared at him; I don't like to be interrupted.

"Yes, they are. John, stop plotting against Loki and focus, please. He could easily smite you off the face of the Earth if he wanted to." I threw some last daggers towards him with my eyes and continued. "So, that is Thor, beware Mjölnir, the godly mighty hammer. As the heir to the throne, he will probably want to use diplomacy at first but his raze are warriors above all. Prowess in battle and physical qualities are valuated highly. Loki is a rarity, as he wields magic. Next. Oh yes. That one is Bruce Banner, at least when he is human. Brilliant mind, he is specialised in gamma radiation. He also turns into a green beast when he is angry. You can't really avoid anger, though. So he must have another technique to keep the beast at bay. He can't afford to let it loose each time he is angered. He is a calm man, anyway. Centred in others, in helping. A way of making up for all the damage he thinks he's caused. People like him often feel like they owe the world for what they've done. We must take into account both Bruce Banner and the Hulk, even if Banner won't be so given to take part."

I made a pause to give John the chance to assimilate everything I was saying. He nodded and I continued.

"Then come the two assassins. They work for SHIELD and are not as public as Iron Man or Captain America. Actually, all the information I've found is obviously false. Someone put a great effort in creating good fake identities, though. So they're experts in what they do, and have a shady past both of them seem to want to leave behind. The Avengers is their redemption, or at least that's how they see it. By the way they move and act, especially Natasha Romanoff, the redhead, they are either spies or assassins or both. Doesn't it go in a pack nowadays?" I didn't give John the chance to react. He didn't anyway.

"She is better in short range battle, hand to hand combat, while Clint Barton's —the other man— obvious choice of weapon is a bow. He wouldn't choose such an unusual arm if he weren't extraordinary with it. Anyway, both can use a gun perfectly fine. What kind of spy doesn't?"

I took a deep breath because not even I can speak that much without even a break.

"The next one is Captain America. Steve Rogers is his real name. The man out of time, the hero from the World War II. As a military, you have probably heard about him, John. As someone who grew up in the 40s, he has traditional ideas, quite conservative. But since he now is in this time, he has had to accept some new ways of thinking. He is a man able to adapt, both as someone who skipped 70 years of History and as a soldier. He is a super soldier thanks to a serum created in the war, but he was the only one to try it as the scientist who created it died before further experiments could be done. He was chosen for a reason, not just as a soldier but as a person. That indicates qualities such as kindness, altruism and putting others before oneself, but also leadership skills and the greater good kind of stuff like actions. He also may be the Avenger with more objections towards the relationship between Tony Stark and Loki, because—"

"Relationship? What relationship?" John asked suddenly.

I looked at him, momentarily puzzled. Then it made sense. John didn't know about Loki and Tony.

"Relationship. As in romantic relationship. Love and sex and dates. You know the kind, right?" I arched an eyebrow and leaned with my hands on my chin, blinking repeatedly. John looked away.

"Yes of course I do."

Even before we started officially dating, when the idiotic soldier of a boyfriend that I have still complained that _he was not my date_, we had gone out to quite a lot of date likes. Dinner, walks, escapes from the police and all those completely normal things.

"I didn't know that" John added.

"I know you didn't."

"And you didn't tell me and you let me get jealous" He pouted. "I don't think that even Loki would cheat that Tony Stark if he loves him."

"Actually, now Loki must be in Stark Tower with him. Before, when he called, he told me he was going to go."

"Did he?"

"Well, he didn't _tell_ me, but it was obvious. Even you could have known it."

"Oh thanks, I suppose" John replied sarcastically.

"You're welcome, John. My little scandalised idiot." My little scandalised idiot glared at me but remained silent. "Anyway, I was about to start with Anthony Stark when you interrupted me so rudely." I made a short pause. "Let's see then. Tony Stark is the genius heir of Stark Industries, which before produced weapons but now is invested in new renewable energies such as the arc reactor. He is also the Iron Man. All his life he has been the great hope, the son of the legendary Howard Stark, so the expectations and fame of him must have caused a deep impact in his personality. Many people who claimed to be his friends would have resulted in fame seekers and gold diggers. That has made him a really extrovert person, at least in the outside, as social skills are needed to sell any kind of product and he is the CEO of Stark Industries. In the inside, though, he feels lonely. In part because of his experiences with his father and betrayals from people he trusted and in part because of his genius. Intelligent people are lonely."

I noticed John staring at me intently. I chose to ignore him.

"Out of the Avengers, he is the one most likely to help Loki, because of their connection. I do not know to what extent is his loyalty to them, though. We can probably persuade him to help Loki out with the correct… stimulation."

"You mean manipulation."

"I mean manipulation, but it is a word I'm not fond of. Correct stimulation sounds way better. Don't you think?"

John just sighed, exasperated.

"Whatever. What are you going to do, then?" He inquired.

"I need time to think. And Loki is not here yet. I don't want to have to explain the plan twice, anyway" I answered.

"Then tell me what happened with the Avengers before" John asked.

"I was going to do so, but you are really impatient." I tsked.

Then I told him most of the events of that morning, leaving Loki's sudden kiss out. How Loki had appeared in the hotel room under another appearance, how he had concealed his magic —burning my laptop in the process, I still don't know if he had done it on purpose or simply didn't care at all—, then how the Avengers had arrived and I explained the conversation we had had. What information they had been more recalcitrant about, what they had been looking for. I told him the Doctor Who joke and he laughed.

When I finished, nearly twenty minutes later, he left the room to let me go to my mind palace. He had his mobile with him, though. Now he knew what to say if the Avengers were to go for him, but still.

During the next hours I concentrated on what to do next, on anticipating any outcome or movement. Oh, I missed this. It had been a while since I had such a big case.

Time flew, and I didn't even notice when John came back.


	16. Past, Present & Future

Tomorrow I go back to Spain! I'm sad, though. I really liked it in the USA. But that means I will have more time to write, so it's beter for you xD Mean, people, dwelling in other's misery.

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**Chapter 16. Past, Present & Future.**

I didn't return to Sherlock until the next day. I needed time to think. About the situation, about the Avengers, about Stark, about the future. That last part was, despite everything, the one that worried me most.

I am not nor was I ever immortal. I have lived long, and longer will I last. Relationships are born, bloom and die, especially amongst Midgardians. So ephemeral, so futile. It was almost funny, how much could they do in so little time. In the course of their lives, most did nothing, at least in the eyes of a god like me. According to themselves, they did great things.

Perspective.

But others, a few, did things. Changed the world. They didn't have to be gifted, even though most of them were. Like Sherlock. He would be one of those special people, I was sure of that. Eventually, but he was so young yet. Not even four decades.

I remember when I was forty year old. By Asgardian standards —and Jötunn too, more or less—, I was a teenager. So was Thor. We were two different types of youngsters, though.

He was arrogant and bragged and fought and was sighing for a different maiden each fortnight. I spent most of my time in the Royal Library, practicing magic, either for amusement or mischief. That was the time when I earned the title of God of Mischief and Trickery, too.

I envied Thor for being so popular amongst our people, for being so easy and sociable.

He was the Golden Boy, the future king.

_And I? _

I was the shadow, always behind him, omnipresent, always hiding things like only the darkness can, always working in the deep.

It's true that I often manipulated him into certain decisions, but I only did so when his pride and foolishness were going to make him make a mistake.

I was _protecting_ him.

* * *

I woke up in a deserted roof. The morning Sun bathed everything in sight, claiming its reign over the planet, casting out the last of tendrils of darkness until the Moon came back to defeat the Sun one night more.

Sleeping in the cement floor didn't bother me, as I had slept in places way worse. Where I slept was not of no matter, as long as I had somewhere barely suitable.

I stretched to get rid of the soreness of sleeping in such a place and looked around. The roof wasn't totally deserted after all. There was a little greenhouse some metres to my left. Oh right. The building was the highest skyscraper in sight, so no other construction blocked my view.

I had chosen this place the night before for that, in part. Also because the greenhouse reminded me of the forests in Alfheim. And because I could see the night sky, the stars, different yet the same to the ones in Asgard, or any other of the Nine Realms.

I loved the stars. They reminded me that whatever places you visited, whatever you did and no matter how long you lived, there will always be something new, something waiting to be discovered. I don't quite know if that's encouraging or disheartening. It's scary and impressive, if not anything else.

It kept me marvelled by the world.

I quickly found out the location of Sherlock and his annoying entertainment and since it wasn't that far I decided to walk. Magic could be detected, especially something as big as teleportation.

I jumped into a dark alley, taking advantage of the relatively deserted streets and the fact that the sun was still rising.

Fortunately no one saw me, so I could avoid having to erase their memory, as magic was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

I landed swiftly on my feet and changed my appearance and clothes. This was New York, but even here I would stand out with Asgardian clothing. Maybe a little magic was needed after all.

I morphed into a woman this time. What can I say, I like variety. She —I— was wearing a pencil skirt and a professional bun. I walked down the streets and turned the corner when needed. It wasn't that far from where the hotel was but still it took me more than an hour to arrive. Somewhere in the middle I took off my high heeled shoes and walked barefoot. It was indeed New York; no one even gave me a look. Humans had probably seen much worse. Or simply didn't care.

I entered the main hall of the hotel and walked towards one of the lifts, before I realised I didn't know which room Sherlock was in. When I had teleported I had aimed for him, not for the room. But I didn't want to use magic now, especially not this close to the detective. It may uncover us.

So I sighed and went to the reception.

"Excuse me" I said to the boy behind the desk. He couldn't be more than thirty. "Can you tell me in which room is Sherlock Holmes currently residing?"

He looked at me, momentarily puzzled.

"I'm afraid I cannot provide that information since Mr Holmes hasn't stated he would have a visit, Madame."

I saw the interested look in the boy's eyes and immediately exploited it to my advantage.

"Miss Donovan, please. I'm single", I said, as if I were commenting on the weather. The eyes of the boy lit up momentarily. Bait taken.

"So tell me, Miss Donovan, why do you want to know in which room is this man?" It looked like an innocent question but I could hear the undertone.

"Oh, you know, business. Paperwork and contracts to sign. Boring. The man doesn't know how to party, to be honest. I'm new here, you see, and I would love if someone would show me the best parts of the city to go clubbing. Not him, I'm afraid."

It wasn't very subtle, but it didn't need to be.

"I could show you, if you wanted. I've been living in New York my whole life, and before I got this job I was a bartender in Greenhouse, which is one of the best clubs of New York," he offered. I smiled beamingly at him and batted my eyelashes lightly.

"That would be lovely, Mr…?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Riley Sanders, Miss Donovan."

He smiled back, enthusiastic as a puppy. I could almost picture its tail moving before his master and the promise of a walk.

"Please call me Cassie. My name is Cassandra." I leaned forward a little but, resting my elbows in the counter. "But first I have to finish all this boring paperwork," I pouted. "Are you sure you can't tell me his room number so I can be free for tonight?"

"Well, seeing as you have important matters to discuss with him, I could make an exception. I wouldn't want to interfere with your work, Cassie."

I smiled and reached out to rest my hand in his arm.

"Thank you very much, Riley."

He motioned for the computer and I eyed him expectantly. Irritant Midgardian. So easy to persuade. It just took a little bit of flattery and flirtation. And to thought I wasn't able to defeat them… Not that I had truly wanted to, but still. It hurt my ego.

"There's no one registered under the name of Sherlock Holmes, Cassie. Maybe he hasn't arrived yet? You can wait here if you want," he informed me.

I groaned inwardly. Great. I had wasted time talking with and pretending I was interested in this poor petty human.

But then I recalled it hadn't been Sherlock the one who had booked the hotel room, but his little entertainment.

"Try with John Watson, Riley dear."

He seemed pleased by the nickname and typed in the new name.

"Yes, there's a result. Room 975. I will write it down for you."

"Thank you, Riley." I smiled.

"My pleasure." He smiled too, satisfied with himself, and handed me a paper. I looked at it and saw that it didn't only have the room number. His telephone was also written in neat blue pen.

"I'll call you when I finish this business."

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. I wasn't going to call him, of course. I waved and got into the lift. Ninth floor.

Oh, it really unnerved me treating with Midgardians.

Every hallway looked the same, but I found the correct room and knocked on the door. Some seconds later an startled John opened.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" I asked, tapping impatiently on the floor.

"Sorry, you are?" He asked politely. All mannerisms all of a sudden.

"I should have known a mortal like you wouldn't be able to figure out the obvious."

He now looked annoyed, the confusion and politeness gone from his gestures. He still was blocking the door, though.

"Hello, Trickster," I said, pointing at my face.

"I know." His expression hardened. "Where have you been? And why are you a woman now?"

"Oh, were you missing me, concerned about my fate? That's adorable, but you don't have to worry about me. I am a god. I can take care of myself."

"But why are you a woman now?" He insisted. I took the chance to mock him.

"Why are you so interested in that, soldier? Do I make you uncomfortable or you like me better this way?" I purred, taking a step closer to him. He mirrored my gesture and took a step backwards, leaving the threshold.

"If you will excuse me now." I smiled wickedly. So easy to get the reaction I wanted. Mortals.

I strutted inside and saw Sherlock sat on the middle of the bed, eyes closed and hands together, as if he were praying. To whom I did not know. He didn't seem the praying type.

"John, that's Loki," he said without opening his eyes.

"No shit Sherlock" replied his lover.

"You looked confused about his —_her_— identity. I thought you would want someone to clarify it for you."

"Dim-witted mortal you are, pet" I mocked. The object of my mocking glared but didn't say anything. A pity, really. I wanted some fun.

"How was Stark?" Sherlock asked suddenly. He still hadn't moved or opened his eyes whatsoever.

"It was… fine. He is where I want him to be. He will be easy to deal with; may even help us" I answered, unsure of what to say. Stark actually was where I wanted him to be, but if hadn't been _fine_. It had been painful for both of us. Lies again, even if everyone lied in these matters.

"Liar" the detective accused, seeing through me. I squinted. He had picked the lie at the first time. "Was the sex good, at least?"

At that I grinned mischievously. I really did not know how did Sherlock know that without even looking at me once, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

"I will let that to your imagination, my dear Sherlock" I replied. He smiled but didn't move any other muscle.

"I have to warn you, I do have a wild imagination."

"Then you won't have any problem to picture Stark and I—"

The doctor cleared his throat behind us, cutting me off. I turned and glared. I am a _god_. You do not interrupt gods. Not when they're talking, not ever.

"Sherlock here needs to think," he informed me.

"I'm sure he can talk while he thinks or I wouldn't have asked for his help. Right, Sherlock? I only choose the best" I commented, turning my head back to the bed. The man chuckled.

"If the conversation is good enough I will talk even while I think."

At that John gaped, utter disbelief and betrayal written all over his face.

"Maybe I'll even think better, doing something almost automatic."

I raised an eyebrow at the comment.

"Our conversations won't be automatic, I assure you that."

"Try me" he dared.

"Oh but then you would win, wouldn't you? A monologue."

"Don't you love those? You like to hear your own voice. You are the second prince; you've always wanted people to listen to you. But with your reputation as a Trickster that wasn't easy, was it?"

I inhaled sharply. All of a sudden Sherlock's deduction abilities weren't so amusing anymore. So I replied with what I knew best, something to make the other man uncomfortable. Create a reaction. The reaction I wanted.

"You can shut my mouth with yours if you are so keen on silence then, my darling." I smiled at the light blush that appeared on his face.

Silence fell between us after that. I smiled smugly and the detective continued with his musings. A couple of minutes later John came back into the room carrying a tray with food and placed it on the table.

I blinked, confused. I hadn't even noticed that he had left the room. He looked at me, an air of resignation tainting his features, and motioned for me to eat.

I raised an eyebrow sceptically and walked towards the table, picking up a toast. I sniffed it and John gave me a bewildered look.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Checking you have not poisoned the food."

"Oh by God's sake. This is not one of your court schemes. Normal people don't poison food. Now eat it or leave it."

Reluctantly I took a bite of the toast. It wasn't bad. I couldn't taste any poison.

"Is it true, then? You and Anthony Stark…?" He started, looking anywhere but me.

"It is. Why, if I may ask?" I didn't mock him this time. I was interested.

"I didn't know you… I mean, I thought you weren't in a relationship. And that that was why you hit on Sherlock."

"I like to tease, my little soldier. You should know that by now."

I leaned closer to him to prove my point. We were barely inches away. He swallowed and turned his head. I smirked.

Sherlock's little lover opened his mouth to say something, but the detective was faster.

"Shut up, John. I can't think."

He remained silent for a moment, before Sherlock opened his eyes and spoke again.

"Got it."

Both John and I turned to the man, expectation rising off us.


	17. The One Who Saw Him For The First Time

I'm back. I know you missed me. No? No. Okay. I'll just leave the chapter here. Please review :)

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**Chapter 17. The One Who Saw Him For The First Time.**

That I could do. Or John. John better. But that… Well, probably Loki could do something with it. I just needed to make sure no one paid too much attention to that while John… Yes, Loki was the best choice. And maybe he could give us a little bit of slack in the process. He could be the distraction. A useful distraction, though. Then it would be my turn. I had to plan this to the detail if I wanted it to work without any flaw. And I wanted that.

Some little tweaks here and there and that was it.

The plan was finished.

It was perfect.

_Of course it is._

"Got it" I said, finally opening my eyes.

I saw both men staring at me expectantly. I cleared my throat to give a dramatic effect.

"Loki, are you completely sure the sceptre and the helmet are in the Tower? There's nowhere else they could be stored, by any chance?" I asked.

"They _could_ be in Asgard" the god answered, after pondering the question for a moment. He looked confused. "If the Allfather has decided they belong in Asgard Thor will have delivered them like the idiotic good son he is."

"Then the first thing we have to discover is where exactly they are. We can't sneak into Avengers HQ if there's nothing there."

"How are we going to do that?" came John's question. "It's not like we can just go and ask."

"Actually, we can" I replied. John cocked his head to the side questioningly. "_We_ can't. Loki can" I explained, pointing at the god.

"Me? I'm not sure presenting myself in front of the Avengers is a wise move."

"It is. If it's done correctly. You have to show you're not a menace. You can push them to tell you the whereabouts of the magical objects once that's in their minds."

"Manipulation" Loki translated.

"It's not if you're really not a threat."

"Sherlock, I'm always a threat. Misery and disaster follow me wherever I go." The god looked resigned, as if it was a simple fact he had accepted long ago.

I dismissed it with a wave of my hand.

"Potential danger. That doesn't count. I'm doomed if it does." I smiled. It wasn't good to have Loki all gloomy. I needed him focused.

"So, you will call first. Announce you are going, that you want to speak to them. Explain yourself. I trust Stark won't have told the rest about your little encounter?"

Loki shook his head.

"No. I told him it was up to him whether to let the Avengers know I had been there or not, but after everything else that had happened he won't."

"As I thought. Manipulation is your area, isn't it?" Loki looked away. "Anyway, I need some days more before making this work. No need to be reckless."

"What information do I have to acquire?" The god asked, looking up.

"Umh, where are your staff and helmet, basically, and see if you can get anything that would help us get them if they are indeed in the building. but you can ask anything you want." He pondered that for a couple of moments. "Oh, and I would really love you if you could get some of Tony's blueprints. Of anything, really. But the suit? Oh my God. Please."

Loki chuckled at that. I don't know if he was laughing at the petition or at the last expression. Probably both.

"Stark is not one to keep physical records. His ceiling machine, Jarvis, stores everything for him."

I pouted childishly. I wanted those papers.

"And what are we going to do, Sherlock?" John interrupted. I rolled my eyes.

"You and I are going to stay here and wait. Unless Loki lets us listen?" I bated my eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"You can try and place a mic on me, but I will shut it down as soon as I don't want you to hear something. Which will most definitely be really soon."

"Something to hide, Loki?" I asked teasingly, arching an eyebrow at the god.

"Plenty" came the response. Okay, that wasn't the reply I had expected.

"Uh, sketchy."

"Indeed."

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds before I averted my eyes.

"Have you discovered who was the one who told them those dirty little secrets that made the Avengers turn on you so suddenly?" I tried to change the subject.

"Yes. Stark told me. Her name's Amora. She's an Asgardian sorceress. But she can't be working alone, she's not smart enough."

"So we're looking for a partner in crime." I thought for a moment. "It must be human, or at least with knowledge of this planet. If it is human he must be quite impressive, to have a Goddess agree to work with him."

"You are not that impressive and yet here I am" Loki commented.

"That's not true and you know it. I'm the best."

The god looked up and crossed his slender arms.

"I wouldn't be here otherwise, don't you think?"

John suddenly cleared his throat and got up.

"What did this Amora exactly tell the Avengers for then to hate you?" the soldier asked.

"She told them some parts of my life" the god simply stated.

"Well your life span covers several centuries. That doesn't really reduce the possibilities" John kept pushing.

Loki sighed, looking older at once.

"She told them… I am not truly Aesir, just by upbringing. My true heritage is Jotünn." He looked up right into my eyes.

"Ice giants. Right. What else?" John asked, losing his patience.

At that Loki looked at him as if he saw him for the first time. Which was probably what was happening, since the god had never taken the soldier seriously.

"How in the Nine Realms do you know that? Who told you that? Who? Tell me!" He looked frenetic, bewildered. I had never seen the god so decomposed.

"Because of the myths." John furrowed his brow. "Sherlock told me."

At that Loki turned to face me, and within moments he was too close for comfort. The god narrowed his eyes until they were nothing more than two green lines.

"Is that true? Did you told your entertainment about my heritage?"

"I did. Kind of. I did told him the legends about you and Thor had a pinch of truth to them." Loki widened his eyes to a normal size again, and backed off some centimetres.

"I told you that" he said.

"You did. Don't you know what myths are about you?"

"I know some. I didn't know people knew I am a Frost Giant."

"Oh, they don't. Norse mythology is not a popular hobby, you see." Loki glared at me again.

"And how come it's yours?" the god asked.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to admit I liked the idea of gods. Not as someone who watched over humankind —if there's a god, which I doubt, he doesn't care—, but a someone with almighty power and knowledge.

"It helped me understand the thinking of people. They are not so different from what they were thousands of years ago" I said instead. That was also part of my reasons to like mythology.

"I see. Were you a fan of me, Sherlock?" Loki asked cockily. Such a diva.

"Obviously. You and your ability to cause mischief amazed me." I rolled my eyes, but the god grinned anyway.

"That, and your ability to get pregnant of animals" John laughed. Not for long, though, as Loki turned to glare at him so fast it would have broken a human neck.

"You dare to say one single more word about my children and you will beg death, understood?" John swallowed. The God of Mischief looked deathly serious now, all the arrogance from before vanished. "Understood?" He repeated in a commanding voice.

John could only nod.

"Good. Now, I need to see those legends that include me and my family."

He turned his attention back to me and I couldn't help but to feel a little bit intimidated. Sometimes I forgot Loki was a powerful and dangerous being.

"Sherlock" he called. "Tell me where I can find them."

I breathed deeply to keep my composure.

"Internet?" I answered.

Loki then moved to the desk, where my laptop was resting. He picked it up and walked out of the door.

"Don't bother me in the next couple of days if you appreciate your miserable and futile lives."

"Where are you going?" I inquired.

There was no answer.


	18. Anger, Frustration & Grief

So, I've decided I'll update once a week, so you know. Enjoy and please review :)

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**Chapter 18. Anger, Frustration & Grief**

I stormed out of the room, not even deigning to give a reply to Sherlock's question.

I was furious. How could a mere mortal know about me, about my children? I had concealed their story as much as I had been able to. Not even Thor knew it all. Not that that oaf would know if I didn't want him to.

And now, after everything I had done, this weak human _knew_?

I wouldn't allow that.

I had to discover every piece of information available. If Sherlock's lover could, anyone could know.

Some part of me, the most volatile part of me, wished nothing but destruction. I wanted to tear this world apart, turn every and all of its inhabitants to dust. I wanted to let the magic run free, free to destroy and create, kill and reborn, burn and shape this world as it pleased.

After that, when there was nothing but ashes above the Earth, I would stand to look down on the remains of the mortals who dared to be in my way. To _defy_ me.

Other part of me, though, wanted to calm down, and tried really hard.

_Probably it's all wrong and vague, as mythology always is. It will be distorted and twisted, nothing will be true._

_Yet the soldier knew_, I couldn't help but to think.

_Only you had children. He didn't seem to know anything else._

That actually made me feel slightly better.

By then I had already exited the building and I was wandering aimlessly through the streets. I was too upset as to even care about the Avengers. I was going to go to them anyway. Eventually.

When turning a corner, I saw a coffee shop that advertised free Wi-Fi. I was familiar enough with Midgardian customs as to know what that meant, so I opened the door and walked to wait in the queue.

Ten seconds passed and the line didn't move a single centimetre. I was growing impatient. Another ten seconds and the situation was the same.

I groaned in exasperation as I debated with myself whether to use magic or not. I could use a simple spell.

_But you shouldn't use magic. _

_I'm not that close to the hotel, it's safe enough._

_Still._

I rolled my eyes before closing them for a moment and thought of an appropriate spell.

Mind control? Charisma? Time manipulation? Make a coffee appear?

I opted for making my way up to the counter and smiled charmingly to the barista across the desk as I waved my fingers under the counter. Some people threw me what they thought were poisonous glances and some others tried to stop me or yell at me.

Too bad I'm a god. Bad for them, of course. Not for me.

"I want a big caramel coffee. Name's—" I stopped just in time. Wouldn't do good to say my name. "John" I said at last.

The barista looked at me confused for a second before the spell made effect. Then, he smiled like he were a stupid person (which probably was true) and turned to take one of the cups.

I put my hand into my pocket and took out some money I had taken from John's wallet. I didn't even count it, just placed it on the counter and turned to wait for my order.

"Do it quickly" I commanded the girl preparing the drinks. She then stopped doing whatever drink it was what she was preparing and started with mine.

I smiled pleased and by the time I went to the other counter —where the cups were served—, my order was already done.

I took it and seated by the window, where I had a good view of anyone crossing the street.

The computer took ages to switch on, and it had password. I cursed Sherlock inwardly and waved my fingers lightly. I still didn't want to use magic, but right then I didn't care that much.

The screen unlocked and I entered the Web browser. It does sound narcissist, but I searched myself. _Loki_. Four letters and so many results.

The first two ones were from the same website, yet they didn't refer to the same Loki. Apparently there was a character based on the god —_me_—? Look, there was a Thor too. His arrogance would be unbearable if he ever found out.

There were characters and full comics for the Avengers too. I tsked. What a lack of imagination.

I looked at the clock and I had to look again to make sure I hadn't imagined the time. Half an hour had already passed while I was reading useless information about comic characters.

I had to focus on the actual Loki.

I had to focus on _myself_. One of my specialities.

I clicked on the next link.

It was a whole website dedicated to Norse mythology. The legends were classified by the name of the main character of each one of them. So I obviously chose _Loki_.

At first I read everything carefully, but I soon grew bored and started scrolling down, scanning the text distractedly.

The legends had a pinch of truth to them, but were embellished with fantastic details. That filled me with anger.

Most of what I was reading didn't even include me in reality. I did scheme, why wouldn't I, but it wasn't my fault more than half of what was attributed to me.

I passed some boring passages featuring Thor and his stubbornness in which I may or may not have been involved —although in public I would always deny it—, and stumbled upon what I was looking for.

It was the story of Sleipnir's birth. I read it and felt more and more furious with each paragraph.

After the War with the Vanir, Asgard was left without a wall to protect the Aesir from the Giants.

Now, that was really funny. Since there was already a Frost Giant inside and all that.

I didn't know if in Asgard my heritage was known, but my supposedly evil nature typical of the Giants didn't kill anyone. Almost anyone.

After I had left Asgard I had started to see how broken and damaged that society really is. Odin was no longer the almighty ruler he once was. Sure, he was indeed powerful, but his rule of fear wasn't working anymore.

The other Realms were changing, _evolving_. Not Asgard. It was clinging to the fainting echoes of the Golden Age out of stubbornness and fear of change.

Even the weak humans were developing. The last time I had set foot on Midgard they believed themselves dangerous with their pathetic axes and fragile boats. Now they could stand a chance even against the brutes of Asgard.

_Stop it. _

Ugh, I was musing again. I refocused on the text at hand, trying to lighten the anger.

Asgard didn't have a wall. Yes, I already said that. So, a constructor came and promised he could build one in a year in exchange for Frigga, the sun and the moon. No one was going to agree, because they all are that blind to opportunity, but I made them agree if he could do it in half the time, without the help of any man.

He wouldn't be able to do it and we would get half a wall for free.

A horse is not a man, though, and I really should have phrased the conditions better. The stallion helped the Giant —the constructor was a Giant, he wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise—. When the due date was approaching, the wall was almost finished, and all the Aesir blamed me for that. _What, now it's my fault others can do their work better than expected?_

So I turned into a mare and lured Svaldifari out of its work. The constructor didn't finish the wall, everyone discovered he was a Giant and oh look, a Giant, let's kill it. Thor took Mjolnir to a nice chat with the skull of the man and everyone enjoyed the free wall.

No one remembered it had been thanks to me. _As always._

In fact, no one noticed my absence or didn't deem it as important until after I returned some months later. With an eight legged horse.

Do not misunderstand me; Sleipnir is my child and I love him dearly. But his conception was not something I want to remember. Svaldifari forced me and this stupid legend didn't even mention any of it.

I didn't want recognition; I had long passed the point of caring. I just wanted the truth. People to know it. I know how lies and half-truths can blur people's minds.

There were also the myths regarding my other children; Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel. Since their mother was a giantess and their father was, well, _me_, the Aesir thought they would be mischievous and bring trouble. Besides, there was that little detail of the prophecy. According to it, the three of them would bring death during Ragnarök. Odin and Thor, for example, would die in their hands.

Overly credulous Aesir.

Still, Odin had taken them away from me and tossed them into the darkness. They were just kids; Jörmungandr was barely a toddler when that happened. How could they imprison children for something they may not even do?

Odin kept Sleipnir as his own personal mount. He thought that it would be mercy, when it only reminded me of their kidnapping and my own impotence in front of it.

At least I could see him; that was more than I could say about some of the others.

Jörmungandr was thrown into the Midgardian oceans, unable to come to the surface. He inhabited the depths, where humans had not ventured more than a couple of times, and only when their technology allowed it.

I could not see him, for his presence was cloaked from me. Even being in the same Realm I could not see my long ago stolen child.

I had the pin, though. It wasn't merely decorative; it had magic imbued. The closer I was to Jörmungandr, the hotter it became. Being in Midgard, I always carried it with me.

I had long ago tried to travel across the oceans to find him, but even when I located where he was, he would not know I was above him nor could I go that deep, even with magic.

So in the end it had just been painful, although it had given me a spark of hope.

Hel's fate had been more fortunate, as she was placed as the ruler of Niflheim. Not a position for a teenager as herself, but she had inherited my mind and soon took control over the Realm. I could visit her, albeit seldom.

I took every chance to go to her, but she was a fully grown woman now and didn't need me anymore. I loved her inclination for mischief and sense of humour. It's not something many in Asgard would comprehend.

But the worst of the destinies was placed upon Fenrir. He was bound by a fetter as smooth as silk and as strong as spider web. The dwarves had created it, and I had yet to find a way to break it. According to the myths of the Midgardians, he would be bound until Ragnarök, but I really hoped that wasn't true.

According to the Midgardian myths I was _supposed_ to be bound until Ragnarök too, with a snake dripping venom in my face, so I took comfort in that thought.

_Wonderful._

But that had already happened. And it wasn't a real snake. I guess the intrinsic subtleties of figured speech were of too much complexity to the crude humans roaming the world a thousand years ago.

The venom is a metaphor for grief, anger, frustration.

After Odin took my children away from me, I felt furious. I wanted revenge. I wanted blood and pain and the death of those who had had anything to do with it. Above all, I wanted to see Odin suffer, for he was the head of it.

When I realised I could not have my vengeance just then, I grieved. I grieved for my children, who were alone in unknown worlds. I pitied myself, as much as I hated that.

I rubbed the palm of my hand against my face. I looked outside. It was already night. By then the legends I was finding were repetitive; the same story in different words, so I closed the computer and exited the establishment.

There were still people inside, and the streets were filling with night life. I walked to the hotel; its reception buzzing with passers-by even at this hour in the night.

I crossed the reception and I was about to enter one of the crowded lifts when something caught my eye.

Not a something rather than a someone.

I swallowed and cursed under my breath.

Thor was awkwardly sitting in one of the armchairs, his eyes boring into mine.


End file.
